Hera's Glory REVISED
by Noelerin
Summary: The true story of Heracles, revised and changed because the gods wanted a more active part in the story. The confrontation between Zeus and Ares. New chapter and an explanation about my looooooooooooooooong silence.
1. Hera's Vacation Changed Everything

_Author's Note : I ditched the prologue. After much reworking, I found it to be unwieldy and rather unnecessary. Not to mention, I just don't like how it flows. The story itself remains the same in plot, though it seems at times that Zeus wants to take control and overwhelm the story. The big ego._

Hera's Glory  
Part One

Hermes flew up to Olympus, hoping to not find Zeus anywhere. The message he bore was not one he willingly wanted to share – with anyone. Even though it was his job, a part of what he did best, he knew full well what happened to the bearer of bad news.

Words were his forte, something he was most excellent using. He was experienced in all kinds of messages. In both the presentation of them and in their creation. Nothing had prepared him for this message, a message that was short and to the point, the static taste of the words. No matter how bad or good, he'd always been able to put a spin on the message.

And his news was more than bad, it was incredibly inconceivable to him.

Somewhere below there was a woman who'd made his life infinitely more complicated. There had been genuine regret in her eyes as she'd given him her message. All the same, she had been most firm that the message was real, there were to be no additions or anything for him wriggle around. Obviously, past experience with him had led her to make certain conditions.

It had to be given as it was.

Entering the palatial complex, he looked around and took stock of who was there. This was one time he wanted no audience at all. He knew that Zeus would be suspicious should he ask to speak to him alone. But this needed to be said in private, not be spoken in front of the assembled gods and goddesses, most of whom were nasty gossips.

Either way, Zeus' reaction was going to be most unpleasant.

Hestia sat in her usual place by the hearth, her raven hair held back with a clasp. In her hands, colored threads were being wound about the spindles in her lap, preparing them for storage. By her side, Demeter sat; the hair that had once been the color of ripened corn but now had the dull sheen of sand had been carefully brushed back into a simple plait. She was still radiant even if life had mitigated that youthful joy she used to have.

Someone brushed past him and he looked over, startled to see Demeter. She joined the two by the fireside, sinking down beside the beauty. With a sense of startled surprise, he realized that he was looking at Persephone fresh from the Underworld. The two of them bore such a striking resemblance to each other that he wondered if Hades had ever been confused when they both approached him.

Smirking he thought that over. Demeter rarely – make that _**never**_ visited Hades or Persephone, no matter what or how many times she'd been invited. He wondered what she'd do if Persephone became pregnant and needed her mother to be with her. As great as Hekate was to her, she was not her mother.

Though she was resigned to this fate, she had no intention of showing any kind of approval over what had been done so many eons ago. She was one goddess that mortals knew not to disrespect because of how fierce her anger and swift her punishment was – even over something they had no part in.

He wasn't sure he saw the point of punishing humans for something a god had done.

And not even of his own free will. His actions had been a direct result of Aphrodite's arrow, working its magic upon the lonely god's cold and chilly heart. He had to admit that the Underworld had become a far nicer place once she'd married him. Having to make several trips there, he was a knowledgeable source on the differences.

And he certainly preferred going there now for he felt welcomed, not suffocated by the unbearable gloominess and sadness that pervaded the area. While it was necessary considering all the souls of the dead that abounded there, he still found it distasteful. Persephone had taken matters into her own hands and had changed several things, making things more comfortable for those souls that dwelt there – and for herself.

Hades loved her so much, he gave her unprecedented autonomy to do as she wished.

His gaze moved on and focused along the right corner, startled again. Aphrodite, her golden looks tied back for once in a simple braid, was sitting beside Athena, watching as she wove a tapestry and gossiped – much to the other woman's not so hidden displeasure. The grey eyed goddess was lacking her aegis but looked no less fierce with her dark hair pulled back in an unflattering bun.

He wondered why the two were sitting beside each other, rather calmly for all the irritation in Athena's expression. Whenever they gathered, they avoided each other to the point of ridiculousness. At best, Athena tolerated Aphrodite. At worse, she often threatened to use her as an able body in training. And Aphrodite had often been heard to say that she'd never met a more aggravating, more stubborn woman in all her time – save for Hera.

The sound of clanging turned him away and he searched a bit for the source, wondering if Dionysius had gotten into the wine early. While the dark haired god was a friend – a very good friend – he didn't like cleaning up after him. That man didn't do _anything_ in small measure.

Thankfully, it wasn't him, just another annoying half-sibling. This one, unlike with Apollo, Dionysius, and Hephaestus, he couldn't stand no matter how hard he tried to like him. Ares was outside in the courtyard, practicing some moves in a vain attempt to best Athena in their next encounter. Hermes had to admit that if he could keep calm, Ares might actually have a chance against Athena.

His blood red armor glinted in the evening light and he paused, allowing golden haired Apollo to pass him by. The golden bow slung casually over his shoulder, he nodded in greeting. Not far behind him came silver haired Artemis, her silver bow in her hand and a triumphant smile on her face.

As they passed through the hall, he heard her crow, "That's the third hunt I've won, brother. Perhaps you should spend less time in the bedroom and more time practicing with your bow."

It struck him as odd that the twins didn't have their usual tie in their competitions. Even when Apollo was in the dumps, his arrows always flew straight and hit their mark.

Yet, that wasn't the only thing off kilter about Olympus. Things had been vocally quieter – but there was a strange tension in the air that none of them could explain. It was completely inexplicable that such a feeling should be there in times of peace. Hermes had a theory that it had to do with the lack of Hera and Zeus' minimal knowledge on where she was.

"Has anyone seen Zeus?" he asked, half- hoping that no one would hear him and that he could knowingly get lost until all of this was over. There was the slightest chance that he would be able to do so. It wasn't like he didn't know several forgotten pathways that would take him days and days to find his way out of.

Hestia looked up at him, her soft green eyes – the same eyes that both Hera and Demeter had but that the other Olympians did not – were filled with quiet sympathy. It felt eerily like she knew what news he bore. "I believe that he has gone down to watch that mortal who has caught his eyes."

"Oh?" he asked, intrigued. If Zeus had another conquest in mind, he would be forgotten. For a time that was. He was not stupid enough to think that it would remain that way. He just needed it to be long enough that he could divorce himself from the reaction he was sure to get.

"Yes," Demeter said, smiling at Persephone. All was right with her world once again now that her daughter was once more with her but she still felt bitter over the way Zeus had just given permission and allowed Hades to have carte blanche with her child. True, he was Persephone's father – but she should have been consulted. "I rather hope that he fails. This woman is known for her beauty – and her absolute fealty to her husband."

"She's like a mortal Hera. Even worships her faithfully," Persephone's soft voice mused. "I think that is why he wants her, not just because she's pretty."

Hermes let one eyebrow go up in query, "Really?" His head tilted, the longish dark brown hair falling to half conceal his face. This was a new one. Usually, Zeus avoided females that had any kind of link with his wife after the disaster of Io. If he was actively seeking one out whose resemblance to Hera was so striking that even Persephone saw it, there could be more to his claim of Hera being the only love that mattered than they thought.

"Definitely," Aphrodite agreed, leaning back casually against the wall. The sleeve on the right side of her robe slipped down, revealing a tanned shoulder. "I don't think he expected her to stay absent the full twenty-five years without giving herself away. He's been lonely, you know."

Demeter snorted, "With all those girls in his bed?"

"One can stand in a crowd of thousands with someone on each arm and if the one he wants isn't there, can feel a loneliness that crushes the soul. If there is no unity, there is only sorrow," she said, growing silent as she thought of her own past. She had children with Ares and undeniable passion with him. It was the same with Apollo and Hermes, even her mortal lovers.

But when she wanted a friend, she turned to Hephaestus. If she longed for a listening ear, a hand to hold, someone who got that when she said _I just want to be held_ that was what she wanted and did nothing more than that. More and more often, she'd been drawn to his side, to his forge, to forget the emptiness that her life had begun to have. She'd begun to find herself, find fulfillment in her husband.

Athena's expression was one of disapproval. "Can we not talk about Zeus like this?"

"Oh, Athena, don't be such a downer," Aphrodite commented. "We mean no disrespect."

"That's not what it sounds like to me," she said repressively. "Zeus' personal life is none of our business."

"That's not entirely true, Athena. He turns it into our affair when he can't keep it out of Olympian business," Hephaestus commented, walking in. "I fixed your spear – but it won't take another beating like the last battle. Perhaps you should peruse my stock and chose another one, a more endurable one." His words trailed off as he noticed Aphrodite's considering look. Since he hadn't really done anything to warrant such a look, he felt uncomfortable under it.

Athena nodded, not making a comment. Standing up, she approached him and accepted it. The weight felt proper again but the balance was slightly off. Not enough to leave her vulnerable should it break in battle, just enough to reinforce Hephaestus' words.

Without a word, Aphrodite rose and walked out.

"Did I do something wrong?" he asked, though he noted that she did not head towards Ares with a sense of relief.

"No," Athena muttered. "She's just being herself. Thank you."

Though he was pretty sure that there was something more to it than that, there was nothing he could say to dispute her words. What could he even attempt to say? All he had was half a picture – and that only concerned Zeus and his sexual escapades. When dealing with Aphrodite, he'd learned it best not to say anything or make assumptions unless she gave him enough to go on.

And even then he took care for the length she'd given him could just as easily hang him as give him the correct information to help her.

"How's mother?" he asked Hermes, redirecting the conversation. Having been the only one in constant communication with her, he'd picked up on something in her notes that troubled him. She seemed far happier and more open than she once was. He had the feeling that she'd found happiness with another and feared that she was going to suffer for it.

Or worse, the mortal she'd found would be made to suffer. As vicious as Hera could be, her mean streak was nothing compared to Zeus'. Only Demeter rivaled him in malicious intent.

"She's…fine," Hermes was slow to say, aware of the eyes upon him. "Made some friends, became involved in the community."

Demeter nodded, as if that explained everything. Having been among mortals herself, disguised to be one of them, she knew how easy it was to lose sight of who you really were and just be. "That must be why she's not with you. She's tying up a few loose ends. I know what that's like."

Hermes said nothing for they heard the familiar sound of Zeus' approach. Quickly, all signs of their industry disappeared so that the room would be in immaculate condition to receive him. Not to mention, that night's revelries would extend throughout the entire complex. The goddesses left to make themselves presentable – as did Hephaestus. It would never do to greet the King of the gods covered in soot and grime.

In moments, only Hermes was left. Even Ares deserted him. Slowly, he turned about, seeing the pleased and lusty expression on Zeus' face. Gulping, he bowed. "Lord Zeus."

"Ah, Hermes." If anything, the smile got wider and brighter. Placing a companionable arm about him, he guided them outside. "How's Hera?" Thinking of his wife, all thoughts of Alcmene departed as though he'd never even seen her. Inside, he couldn't wait to see her again.

"She's doing all right," and, cursing his cowardice, he borrowed Demeter's words. They were sort of true. "But she got involved with the community and is staying to tie up things. She could be gone for a little while more."

"Fine," Zeus seemed to not notice the tension in Hermes. He was to busy fighting down his sense of disappointment. "As long as she's happy with her lot. I do hope that we'll soon see her on Olympus." It was true. More than anything, he missed her. Even if it had meant giving up his pursuit of Alcmene, he'd have done it just to have her back again.

Hermes said nothing for really, what was there to say? He'd practically lied to the King of the gods and it had been accepted as truth. While Hera would be far from pleased, he breathed a bit easier even though he knew the truth would soon come out. Perhaps, perhaps she just needed a little more time as he'd said.

After all, she'd never been involved in a battle like mortals engaged in. They were far different than the wars of the gods, with far more casualties, more bloodshed. He had to believe that she'd be fine and that it was just shock. It was easier than accepting the truth, namely that she was done with the entire lot of them on Olympus – Zeus most of all.

654321

Hephaestus sighed, rubbing his skin and hair vigorously with soap. Dunking once under the water to rinse clean, he remained under for a few beats to enjoy the quiet that he rarely had in the forge, though he loved the place and his work dearly. With regret, he emerged and breathed deeply. The scent of lavender perfume hit him before the voice, "You missed a spot."

Opening his eyes in shock, he allowed them to adjust to the sudden glow of candles in the bathing chamber. "Aphrodite," he greeted her quietly. Never before had he been thankful for the darker coloring of his skin that mostly hid his blushes from his wife.

For all the times that she'd been coming to see him, this was the first time she'd breached that unspoken line of places that she wouldn't cross over. He couldn't quite figure out what she was doing there – and with him of all people. It wasn't as if she didn't know it was him. His clothes were far different from the Olympians. They had to be in order to survive the heat and sweat of the forge.

She sat on a stool, studying him. "Would you like me to take care of it for you?"

Gulping back his nervousness, he cleared his throat. _How long had she been there_? "Only if you wish to. I hate to impose upon your kindness."

"Kindness," she repeated with a self-mocking smile. "Of all the things people have said about me, that is not one of them."

"They don't know the real you," he was quick to defend her. "They only see the side of you that men want to. A man's fantasy, a woman's worst enemy – but they miss the real you when they limit you to such parameters. You are far more than they and even you believe you are."

Her face softened, tears moist in her eyes. "How can you be like this? Believe this of me after the humiliation I've put you through?"

Silence reigned in the room for a time before he answered, "How can I not? You are the goddess of love and beauty. True beauty lies inside of one, not just upon the outside, though you are not often able to show your true heart to others. But just because you can't often use that kindness does not mean that it isn't there.

"Love can wear many faces, all of which you must wear. I like you as you are, with all of your faults and flaws because they make you who you are. Yes, I was humiliated by your actions – but you were very young and frightened, new to this world of gods and goddesses when this marriage was forced upon you. You were not ready for marriage.

"If I cannot look at it from your perspective, I would be a very shallow person indeed."

Rising, she walked over and knelt down on the tiles. For all their time together, she thought that this was the longest, most personal speech she'd ever heard him make. Reaching out a hand, she drew it down his cheek, noting the different textures between his scars and his perfect skin. There was a sense of shock to realize that it was soft, though calloused from his work.

In all their years of marriage, she'd never touched him more than she had to, had never allowed him to touch her intimately. The hugs of a friend were one thing, they were about comfort and reassuring her that he was there for her. She'd never wanted the embrace of a lover from him.

Before today.

No, he'd never be handsome but there was a beauty to him that she was beginning to appreciate. Her gaze dropped to his lips, the lower of which was fuller, more sensual looking than it by rights should look. A man with lips like that…they begged to be kissed and pleasured. She leaned forward, meeting his eyes and noting the way they widened as her intention sank in. In the depths of their brown was that hint of green she so envied in Hera's.

"Aphrodite," he warned with a slight moan. "Careful. You'll fall."

"Then you'll just have to catch me," she whispered, a breath away from his lips.

Precariously balanced, she waited to find out what he would do. For only a moment before she took his lips with hers and slipped off the tiles into the bath. Before she even had time to panic at the feel of falling into water which quickly started to surround her, his arms were there along with the security of his hard body lifting her above the water.

For the first time, she felt dainty against a man. She gloried in the unusual feeling, this feeling of being fragile and cherished, protected. The kiss was chaste, mostly on her end for he held back his response. Yet, she still tasted the passion that rested beneath his exterior. The restraint he was exercising to keep from harming her, from taking advantage of the situation and what he felt was her obvious confusion.

She couldn't blame him for holding back from her. She had never once – not once – ever led him to believe that this would ever happen. In her own mind, such a concept was a joke. There were so many others for her to love, so many others for her to conquer. But then, she'd suffered a great loss and no one had seemed to care.

Yet, he had been there to comfort her. It was easy to turn to him for a shoulder to cry on for that was all he'd ever offered her. So lost and alone, she'd had no where else to go. Ares had rejected her, seeing her tears as nothing but weakness. And in his eyes, weaknesses were something to be eschewed.

Not so with Hephaestus. Without question, he'd taken her in when she showed up at his door. Though greatly surprised, he opened his home and heart up to her. No matter the hour, she'd always been able to see him. In the hours, days, and months that followed, she'd gotten to know him, truly know him. _Tears, he'd said, tears are only the expression that the soul still exists. They are merely there to remind us of the care and love we feel for one another_.

And somehow, she'd started to fall in love with the man behind the exterior the world saw.

Drawing back, she rested her forehead against his, breathing raggedly. Every rapid beat of his heart thrummed against her side, in tune with her own. "Kiss me, Hephaestus," she hoarsely ordered, keeping her eyes lowered modestly. "Kiss me as though I'm the only thing that matters and that we never will again." As out of place with her as the shyness was, she didn't want to see the compassion in his eyes.

Or worse, the pity for her wanton behavior.

His arms involuntarily tightened upon her at the words as he swam closer to the side. Due to the momentum of her fall, they'd gone towards the center of the bath. The deeper end, there was the slightest sense of the absurdity of their position in the water – and the absurdity of the situation between them emotionally and physically.

And he knew that as strong as he was, even he could only tread water for so long.

"Aphrodite," he gasped. Those were words, spoken in that kind of voice, he'd longed to hear. But he wasn't going to take advantage of her. "We can't do this. I won't easily let you go to Ares or any of your mortals loves if we do. I…"

Her hand covered his lips. Now, she was staring straight at him, seeing nothing in his eyes but love, devotion, and a burning fire that kindled a similar one within her. This flame that burned within him was entirely aimed at her. Shivering in desire, she drank in that look of reverence that would be gentle with her – and the naked need that would take her fiercely. Take her to the peek and over the edge should she choose to unleash it.

That look was one she'd caused in other men's eyes but meant more from this one god. For she knew it wasn't caused by any of her spells or even the arrows of Eros. This devotion, this love was all his own doing. "Don't make me beg."

It was the tears in her voice that stopped his protests. Slowly, he lowered her down until her feet rested on the ground. Her robe soaking up the moisture and floating up around them. One hand raked through her hair, freeing it from the plait that had bound it back. It spilled down her shoulders, a cascade of gold, catching the lights of the candles and reflecting it.

Her blue eyes stared into his own, asking to be owned. To be possessed by him as thoroughly as she had taken over his mind. The delicate hands griped his shoulders, pulling herself closer to his warmth and strength.

Slowly, very slowly to give her the chance to change her mind before they irrevocably destroyed their friendship, he lowered his lips to hers. At the first touch, the candle flames shot up, illuminating every corner of the room. The water heated up to an almost uncomfortable degree.

Instead of protesting as he thought she would, she only pulled him closer, one hand pulling at his hair to keep him in place. The other raked down his back and he gasped, deepening the kiss before she could. With tongue and teeth, nibbling, biting, tasting and drinking her in, he thoroughly owning her lips, heedless of the fact that anyone could walk in and find them like this. It may have been just one kiss but he possessed her lips.

And her mind.

They parted after a time and both were panting, practically sucking in the air as they stared at each other. _One little spark does indeed lead to one awesome flame_. A low, sultry chuckle flew from her lips at the thought. And her eyes sparkled brightly at his look of inquiry, "The god of fire, indeed. And he's all mine."

"Always have been," he admitted with no shame. There really was no point in denying it when she'd always suspected it of him. Heading towards the stairs, he pulled them both up out of the water over her mewling protests. "We have a dinner to attend to." There were a thousand other things he'd rather be doing – and all of them with her and a bedroom. But he was a dutiful son.

"Zeus can spend one night without us," she growled. "May be even more – because we have centuries to make up for."

"Somehow, I don't think he'll see it that way," he dryly retorted.

"I don't really care," she replied.

And she truly meant it.

As far as she was concerned, Zeus could rant and rave as much as he wanted, she was finally finding her safe place to land. Zeus would just have to accept it because she wasn't going to bend over backward for him and give it up to salvage his pride. "I am with my husband whom I have been falling in love with – don't drop me. And I intend to solidify that relationship, Zeus' feelings not withstanding."

Hephaestus smiled, a genuine smile that lit up his eyes. His beauty became luminous to her and she was resolved to keep that look on his face – but out of the sight of the other women. She needed no competition for him.

"I love you. But I need to get dressed."

Aphrodite laughed, the sound floating around the room and out the windows. The candles' glow had returned to normal, leaving them bathed in a warm glow. "No, you don't. Because what we are going to be doing requires no clothing."

"What have I done?"

"Nothing…yet," she wickedly added.

654321 One year later (give or take)

Zeus paced back and forth, noting the time once again. Earlier that day, his child by Alcmene had been born. It had been a boy and along with him had come another son. There was no doubt that one of the boys would be his. The question was, which boy was it? The elder or the younger?

Either way, the royal birthright he'd planned for his child would be unclaimed. By a twist of fate it had gone to Eurystheus' family. There wasn't much he could do to alter that fact unless he wanted to go back on his deal, an idea that was appealing but wouldn't be a good thing. It would never do to be so unjust, so hypocritical.

Looking outside again, he tried to breathe deeply, nervousness dancing inside as anticipation filled his veins. For something else of great import was occurring that day. Hermes had gone to bring Hera back to Olympus. After twenty-six years of silence, his wife was finally coming home where she belonged.

While he couldn't wait to see her again – his marital bed had been far to cold – her reaction to his news was something he dreaded. Thus, he wasn't sure which event made him more nervous. Though if asked, he would admit to feeling nothing of the kind. After all, he had an image to maintain and being visibly uneasy wasn't a part of it.

And it was true that under other conditions, he knew how she'd act and his reaction to it. Unlike when she visited her foster parents, this absence felt unreal for he hadn't known where she was, what she was going through. Things had changed, she had been gone for what seemed to be to long a time. Long enough that he wasn't sure he would know this Hera.

Living as a mortal woman, being in the center of a very human war…it would have changed her. And he hated the idea of her there without him as backup. The question was, had it changed her in a positive way, allowing her to regain her love of humanity and her compassion towards them.

Or had it made her angry for their failings, thus she would be more likely to strike out against them when they asked for help. Blackening her name further for it would no longer be about him and his affairs, but about the imperfections found in mortals. He knew from personal experience that he'd often been torn between the two emotions whenever he'd gotten involved in their wars.

And she had been in the thick of the worst of it, perhaps being a nurse, perhaps leading the charge.

Having fought the Titans with her at his side, he knew that she was an able General and a capable warrior. If push came to shove, she knew how to command both respect from her armies – and fear from her enemies. She had been the one commander he'd never had to question for he'd known what her moves would be as he'd known his own.

It was one of the reasons he'd wanted her for wife, not just because she was beautiful.

She was his mirror half, the flip side he needed to be complete.

Turning around, he stared at the empty, delicately carved throne that sat beside his sturdier one. Hephaestus' wondrous skill was evident in the care and perfection of both. Elegantly made, they were the perfect thrones for the King and Queen of the gods. Sitting bereft of the woman whose presence in his life had been a source of constant joy and terrible frustration to him.

Walking up to it, he brushed his hand along the smooth velvet backing, noting that it lacked the softness, the living heat of her skin. But some of her perfume seemed to cling to the fabric. Though fantasy it was, he knew that he'd have the warm reality under his hands soon.

At the sound of a clearing throat, he turned around and saw Hermes.

Just Hermes.

Breathing deeply, feeling calm return to him now that he knew she was somewhere near, he walked down to where his son stood. "Hermes," he greeted, looking out into the hall for Hera. "I trust that your journey went well."

"It could have been better," he admitted. "The thunder and lightening were a bit distracting and almost threw me off a couple of times."

Zeus shrugged carelessly. Though he'd tried, the weather always responded to his moods. There wasn't much he could do about it unless he kept himself shut down completely against all emotional stimuli. And that was something he was not willing to do. "Sorry. Is Hera bathing before she comes to see me?"

"Hermes," he said, staring straight at him when there was no answer. "Where Is Hera?"

Taking a deep and calming breath – it didn't help – he cleared his throat. "She wanted me to tell you that…" he stopped. Those dark eyes focused on him and he shifted uneasily. Beginning to understand just how frightening his father could be when that piercing gaze focused on one.

"Tell me what?" he spat out the words.

In the background, lightening crashed and shattered Demeter's new roses. Zeus didn't even spare a thought of apology to her. She could always grow more. It wasn't like she didn't have the time on her hands once she'd finished moping over Persephone. He really wished she'd get over it. Really, twelve hundred years was more than enough time to forgive and forget.

"She's not coming back to Olympus," he said, voice small sounding in his ears. "And…" Jumping back, his toes felt singed by the heat of the bolt that scarred the floor.

"And What?" Zeus asked, the question a mere growl of sound.

"She releases you in fullness of heart to find another wife because…"

Without listening to the rest of the message, Zeus stormed out of the room. There was no way he was going to be so summarily dismissed from his wife's life like that. With words spoken through an almost impartial messenger, he was not letting her slip through his fingers – not after all he went through to _**get**_ her to be his wife, his one true spouse.

Thunderclouds darkened the sky as wind whipped through the Palace. Lightening scorched the pillars and the floors. Hail stones pummeled the ground, leaving gouges in the surface. On Earth, the humans ran to take shelter in their homes, terrified of this sudden storm of the Great Thunderer.

Terrified that they had done something to enrage him.

Inside, the gods and goddesses looked at each other and hid in corners. Nymphs and dryads covered what they could and took shelter in the caves beneath the complex. The Mountain itself shook tremendously. Water spilled over Poseidon's small pool, flooding the antechamber.

Even Athena, the one closest to his heart, felt fear enter into her body. It had been quite some time since Zeus had lost control over the weather so completely. The last time anyone could remember had been over seven centuries earlier during an ill-managed rebellion. While it had been quelled and peace restored, the memory of it was fresh in their minds.

Aphrodite looked up from her position in Hephaestus' arms. Shaking her head, she moved further into the warmth of his body, idly drawing circles. "Hera didn't come home. And I'm not sure whether to applaud her – or pity her."

"What makes you think that?" he asked, distracted by the way her fingers drew on his chest. It wasn't that he disbelieved her – he knew better than that – he was just curious.

"Does that sound like happy Zeus to you?" she asked. Her smile lascivious, thinking about what should have been going on. "Yes, she does have a way of making him angry – but not this fast. If she was home, I think we'd be having a different kind of weather show."

Shaking his head, he captured her fingers with his own, kissing the tips before releasing them. His fingers toyed with her hair. "Should I be disturbed that you know his emotional state of mind because of his manipulations of the weather?"

Aphrodite rolled over until she was half on top of him, smiling down at him as she rested her arms across his chest. With her chin resting on her arms, "Nah. It's just something that I have to know – goes with the job description."

"And how do you know my emotional state?" he asked. Titling his head, he allowed his free hand to run down her back in comforting circles. Even though they'd been fully together for over a year, spending every night – and some days – in bed, he kept expecting it to end. Kept expecting her to wake up and realize that she was with him, the last one he knew that she'd ever wanted to be with.

"Your eyes," she whispered, leaning up to brush her lips against his. "They tell me plainly what you feel – and reflect the same desires in my own eyes. I'm not leaving you anytime soon."

Hephaestus fully captured her lips. "I love you," he said when they parted. "No matter what happens to us, I will always love you. You have no idea how happy you have made me."

"I think I do," she softly replied. "There was a great emptiness in me – you've filled that with your love and patience. There's no one else I want to be with. I love you."

This wasn't a temporary fix for her until something better came along. She knew that Hephaestus thought it was. And she could hardly blame him with her history of lovers. But they'd lacked the permanency, the devotion he offered her without reserve.

Her love for him was based on something far more enduring for she'd learned to love who he was, not what he was. It had been in the little things rather than the big things. The way she'd discovered him, she realized with a sense of awe, was the same way that most mortals found those they spent their lives with.

And she wondered if there was a way to spread the message that love from the inside out was far better than love from the outside in. For better or worse, she'd tied her heart to him. The only way to separate her from him was in death.

Luckily, as a goddess, she didn't have to worry about that.

654321

"HERA!" Zeus' voice echoed in the empty hallway. The door he'd flung open hung on one hinge, swinging crookedly as he stormed into the house, looking for her.

This house resembled the one he'd found her in years ago, quiet and cozy. Her presence breathed in all the corners – as it once had in Olympus. It felt of home to him and the knot in his chest tightened almost painfully. Was she insane enough to think that he was just going to let her disappear from his life without a fight? Had she forgotten how long he loved her, courted her?

From somewhere above his head, he heard her beloved voice. "I'll be right down." Within moments, she was walking down the stairs, dressed in a stark grey chiton, the recognizable veil covering her hair. "Did you not receive my message?"

"I received what I am hoping was a joke," he replied acidly. Staring at her, he willed her to meet his eyes, conscious of how thin and worn out, yet physically fuller, she seemed. There was a familiar sense about her condition, as though he'd seen her like this before. Pushing aside that thought for a moment, he watched her cross the hall and walk into the back room, not once looking at him.

"Would you care for something to drink?" she asked.

"This is not a social call, Hera," he replied, following her.

"No, the weather outside has made me quite aware of that fact," her comment was dry. "But I am thirsty from the packing and arranging of matters."

Hearing these words, the tight knot in his chest loosened. Breath returned to him. Outside, though, the storm continued to gain in strength and power. Once unleashed, not many things could quench his storms. If he wanted, he could go outside and stand in the center of it, bringing it to heel.

If he wanted to.

"Then you thought better of what you told Hermes. I knew that you couldn't be serious," there was satisfaction in his voice.

"I didn't say that, Lord Zeus. My message to Hermes remains as given," she calmly poured a glass of water for herself, still not facing him. "Are you sure that there is nothing you wish to have?"

"What is wrong with you?" he asked, putting his arms around her to trap her against the counter.

"I don't know what you mean," she quietly whispered, trying to ignore the feel of the heat from his body. The way her body wanted to lean back into his, soaking up his strength. This was one of the things she had missed about being near him. The way he'd always made her feel both delicate and strong.

Shaking off the thoughts and wants, she exercised the control she'd been developing. This dissolution of their marriage was the best for both of them. It was what they needed, though she knew he'd not see it that way. That if he had his way, they'd stay together – and they'd end up destroying each other in their selfishness. Her jealousy wouldn't rest easily when he strayed – and he liked his women too much to be faithful to just one.

She had learned that if you love someone, sometimes the best thing, the only thing one could do is let them go.

The delivery was perfect and he might have believed her – save for the fact that he'd caught the faintest of tremors in her voice. He'd loved her too long to be fooled by her causal act. "You know full well what I mean, Hera. Have I done anything to let you think that I prefer my life without you near me?

"That Olympus is better off without you? You are my one true wife. You are needed on Olympus in a way that no other goddess will do. Our children still need you to be there for them. Ending our marriage as though the centuries and our children mean nothing more to you than some task to be checked off on some to do list…that is not acceptable to me."

"I don't suppose it would be," she sighed, turning about to face him, keeping the cup in her hands. It was a rather puny way to keep some space between their bodies. "I just wanted to spare us this drama."

"Drama," he repeated the word. It sounded as distasteful when he said it as when she had. "Our marriage is just drama to you."

"Not in the beginning, no it wasn't. But you must admit that it has become something of a joke over the years," she replied.

"I want you to come home," he repeated.

Hera looked at him, studying the lust in his eyes. The loneliness there – the second of which she hadn't been expecting. _Perhaps…_she cut that thought off immediately. There was no perhaps between them. She couldn't go back to what she had before, not when she'd found so much more.

"Would you force me to leave with you?" she asked quietly, studying his countenance. She knew it wouldn't be below him to do such a thing, though he had never actually tried it with her. For some reason, she seemed to be exempted from his trickery.

"What happened?" he asked instead of replying to her question.

"When?" she was quick to retort.

"While you were here," he said, "I know that there was a war. Did something happen to you to make you think that I wouldn't want you to come home?" She had, after all, been a lone woman on the outskirts of town. Should some men take an interest in her, she would've had to defend herself in a way that she had not in years.

The thought of her facing that frightened him.

Hera remained quiet. Her eyes stared just beyond his shoulder, lost in visions the kind of which he could not see. There was a bit of a debate within her about what to say. With a sigh, she confided, "Not in the way you mean. I offered my services as a tactician and my expertise was welcomed gladly. On the way home one night, I was ambushed by six men. As I had been training, I was a banged up and bruised, tired.

"But I could've fought them off," she took a deep breath and drank some water. "Save they had a blade of adamant. I have no idea where they got it. I thought that Kronus' sickle was the only one in existence. I was wounded but before they could do more than tear at my clothes and slash my skin, I was rescued by Philon."

And here she choked back her tears. Zeus' arms surrounded her and pulled her close. There was no comfort in the embrace for he didn't soothe her, just kept her in his arms.

"He saved me but died in my arms. I still have their weapons somewhere around here, was planning to send them to Hephaestus but I just lost track of the time," she drew in a ragged breath, forcing herself to forget the reason that she'd lost count of the days that had gone by. Trying to maintain some amount of control over herself, she almost didn't catch his words.

"Come home, Hera. You can heal there, surrounded by your friends and family. Take as much time as you need; only come back with me. I need you there," he was quiet. "You have no idea how much I do."

Closing her eyes against the memories that swamped her, the doubt that filled her, she debated. A part of her, the part of her that was so in love with her husband, screamed at her to go back with him where she belonged. But the rest of her wanted to flee from him because she'd never heal around him for he was part of what caused her such pain.

And then there was her secret, the one which could destroy everything if it was known. "I don't know."

"I swear on the River Styx," there was only a slight smile in his voice as he recalled making a vow similar this one to her before. "That I will behave myself and will allow you time to heal. You may come to me as wife when you are ready, I will not pressure you. Only please, come home."

Hera sighed and followed him out into the stormy night.


	2. Who Am I? Really?

12 Years after Heracles' birth.

"Come on, Heracles, before Cheiron notices that we aren't coming," the blond whispered. Glancing around nervously, the tree only half hid his position on the wall. It was always a risky thing to sneak away from classes. Their teacher was not the kind of being to treat lightly. His butt still hurt from the switch that had repeatedly hit it.

"Easy for you to hurry me along, you're not the one stuck to this tree," he hissed back, tugging at his trouser leg again. "If you're in such a hurry, you could give me a hand."

Iolaus climbed down to him, prying the trouser leg loose from the grasping branch. He shifted to maintain his balance, gripping as he did so. "Why you can't just rip it free?"

He just gave him a dirty look, which Iolaus ignored, as usual.

"You know, this would be a lot easier if you weren't so picky about your clothes."

"I am not. Mother wanted me to be presentable to meet King Erginus, who may foster me for a season," he retorted, pausing, a sound catching his ear. He and Iolaus exchanged looks. Then, as one, they stopped moving, almost holding their breaths.

From past experience they knew that if caught, they would both be punished. Alcmene did not like disrespectful behavior, especially towards those of her household. Heracles' punishment would be greater because he was older – and should lead by example.

Below them, some washer women appeared, arms loaded with fresh laundry. "Did you see him?"

"Oh, yes. He looks nothing like his father or his mother." One of them responded, the others looked around, nervously. This was neither the time nor the place to be discussing this scandal. They could get into trouble for even thinking such thoughts. Not to mention, to speak ill of the lady of the house was considered to be the worst kind of behavior, especially when one was as kind as Alcmene. "But his birth was so strange, what else can you expect?"

"So, it's true? The child isn't Amphitryon's son?"

"Well, one of those boys certainly is." The first woman spoke again, trying to regain the center of attention. While the other woman had been with the household longer, she'd been more aware of the signs of divine mischief. "But there can be no doubt that the other is not."

"I'm only surprised that **she** allows him to live unmolested, considering who the father of that boy obviously has to be." A new voice spoke up from the rear.

"Oh, didn't you know?" The second woman said, pausing to look at them all. In a hushed whisper, she told them, "A few months after they were born, two snakes appeared in the room and they went straight to his cradle. Before anyone could do anything, that boy strangled them both easily."

"You don't say."

"Shocking."

"Do you think his real father interfered?"

"Some say he did. But I'm not so sure. Had it been he, there would've been a sign revealing him. In cases like this, it has always been so. That way the divine child and mother would not be harmed by the wronged husband. Divine or not, it can't be easy for a mortal man to accept that his wife has bedded another man and born a child by him."

"I think **she's** waiting patiently for another chance to strike out him, after you know who's attention has been captured by another," a shiver passed through the group at the thought. It was no small thing to come to _**her**_ attention. "She shouldn't have that long to wait, considering his past." They passed out of hearing, leaving the two in the trees curiosity unsatisfied.

"Heracles, who were they talking about?"

"Well, it's either me or Iphicles. You aren't one of my father's sons, though the gods know I wish it were otherwise." They finally freed the cloth from the entangling branched, made the climb, and descended to the ground below quietly. "So, now what do you want to do?" he asked, brushing his hands off and looking around.

It was actually amazing that they'd escaped at all. Usually Cheiron had caught up to them. The centaur must be getting slow – or had other things to occupy his mind. Neither thought was comforting to either boy, though Heracles had to admit that a day off from schooling was a relief. One could only study so many parchments and principles before wanting to follow Dionysius into murderous madness.

Iolaus shrugged casually, looking up at the sky, studying it to make sure that the weather would remain good for several more hours. His ability to read the weather was one of the only traits Cheiron approved of, said he'd make a mighty hunter one day.

If he could be counted on to pay attention to other matters of import, that was.

It was no good ditching if you there was no fun to be had. "It's too late to go into the market place to see the new goods. We might as well go back to class. Or we could…" he trailed off, a mischievous look entering his eyes.

Heracles felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He recognized that look all to well, having seen it often enough over the years. "We could what?"

"Nothing to worry about," he chuckled, knowing that tone of voice well. All too often, it had been justified for he'd well earned the reputation of a trouble maker. "We could check out this monster that I heard about who's been ravaging cattle herds, leaving behind nothing but blood and bones. Once in was done in Nemea it came here."

"Why not?" he said with a shrug. It sounded better than sitting inside and studying even if his mother would make them both pay for it later. The pair made their way down to the fields where Amphitryon kept his herds. When they saw nothing out of the ordinary, they made their way to the neighboring fields to have a look.

Suddenly, Iolaus paused and blinked, unable to believe what his eyes were seeing. "Heracles, look." He was pointing off to the right.

Humoring him, because he was pretty sure Iolaus had been teasing him, he looked. What he saw in the clearing startled him before he recognized the shape. "It's just a big lion." The words were slow in coming as he studied the beast, realizing that _big_ didn't quite cover its size.

"A really big lion. May be we should go and get some help before it sees us," he suggested, backing up slowly.

The closer it got to their location, the more dread Heracles felt. "I think that's a great idea."

Watching its motions for a moment, they timed their walk to match its steps. Their backward movement, no matter how slow and even, caught the lion's eyes and he pounced on them. Struggling to free himself from the huge paws, Heracles saw that Iolaus was doing the same thing. Instead of continuing to try to free himself, he turned and helped his friend.

Once he was free, Iolaus tried to help Heracles but the boy shook his head, barely gasping out a…"Get help."

With one last sorrowful look, Iolaus took off for the town. Heracles had his hands full trying to keep the lion from chasing him. Using strength he didn't know he possessed, the youth wrestled with the creature, finally managing to get his hands around the neck and squeezing.

_Tighter_, a voice seemed to be saying, _and twist_.

Iolaus pushed his way through the men, expecting to find the mangled and bloody body of his best friend. Thoughts of that tragedy had haunted him on his entire run to the village. He stopped and rubbed his eyes, blinking them in consternation, again unable to comprehend what they were telling him, what they were seeing.

Though bloody and bruised, Heracles was fine.

The same could not be said of the lion which lay at his feet, dead.

Finally, he smiled, ignoring the terrified looks the village men were giving his friend. What did they know of real terror? Real terror had nothing to do with seeing a dead lion. Albeit a really large lion. It had everything to do with fearing that your friend would be killed because of your idea of fun.

It had to do with almost losing one's life on a foolish trip because one didn't want to be in school. This…this was a miracle. Iolaus wasn't going to ignore it just because those around him couldn't see past their own fears of his friend. He didn't know if he'd have been able to live with himself had Heracles died because of him.

So, he couldn't resist the opportunity that was presented before him to tease his cousin as he looked at the outfit that Heracles wore. The now mangled and dirty, torn outfit that he'd tried so hard to keep clean. "I can't wait to hear what story you have for Aunt Alcmene when she asks how you got into this condition."

"I thought I'd leave the explanations for you, Iolaus," he shot back, grateful for his friend's joking attitude. It hurt him deeply, the distrust and suspicion he saw in the eyes of the assembled men. Men he'd known all his life avoided being near him, though they were certainly willing enough to help carry the lion away. The cynical thought came to mind that they were trying to share in the glory, though they had done nothing to help.

Later the two sat in his room, staring out at the night sky. Heracles looked at his friend and smiled sadly. He could clearly read the question in the light blue eyes, a question he was unwilling to ask for fear of something. "What is it?" Giving him the opening he wanted.

Still, it took some more prompting before Iolaus would speak. "What happened after I left you?"

Heracles shrugged reflexively. "I honestly don't know. One minute, I was fighting this lion and knew I was going to die. You remember how that skin felt, tougher than any kind of metal. Cheiron said that it was impregnable. Anyway, something inside me changed. I felt my hands becoming stronger, become harder. These hands found his neck."

He was staring at his hands as though he'd never seen them before. As if he couldn't believe that they were the ones he was describing for they had lost that peculiar strength he remembered. "I heard a voice inside my mind, guiding my actions. Once it couldn't break free, he started to claw harder, to tear at my skin. The voice spoke softly, telling me to twist. There was a sickening pop and it fell over me, dead."

Iolaus whistled, something occurred to him then. It was with great hesitation that he broached the idea, "Heracles? Do you remember this afternoon?" After all, when one thought about what had been discussed, it was risky to talk openly about it. Those women weren't afraid for no reason if the god referred to was Zeus himself.

And what other god had such a vicious _she_ associated with them?

"Remember it? How could I possibly forget it? Today is burned within my memory." And that voice had felt calm, accepting, and – most of all – loving.

"Mine to," he said softly. "But actually, I wasn't referring to the lion. I was talking about the women."

He looked at the blond, incomprehension on his face. He was still thinking about how he felt, hearing that voice speaking to him. From somewhere deep inside of him, he knew he'd heard that voice before. In his rare moments of fear, that voice had been there for him.

He just wished he knew what it meant to him for it hadn't been a male voice.

"You remember, the ones we heard talking," he prompted, watching as realization dawned on his face.

His head dropped into his hands and a groan escaped his lips. "Oh, this is bad. Do you think Iphicles knows?" But this made him question what he'd heard. As much as he wished to claim ignorance, he knew that only a child of Zeus' could be so feared.

Yet, if his father was Zeus and so concerned with his safety that he'd protected him from the serpents, why hadn't he heard him?

Iolaus shook his head, "Amphitryon would not speak of that to anyone without talking to you first. It isn't his way."

With a sigh, he nodded. "You're right."

"Of course I am. It doesn't change who you are, Heracles, just makes you more interesting."

"Interesting. Will you think so when Queen Hera tries to revenge herself upon me?" Slightly biting as he put a name to the nameless _her_ referred to that afternoon.

Yet, something didn't feel right to him, thinking of her in such terms. It might have been his mother's devotion to that particular goddess for his mother was no fool, but he felt deep inside that there had to be more to it than that.

He shrugged carelessly. Then, with a twinkle in his eye, said with a smile and laugh. "Depends on what I get out of it all."

Heracles punched him in the shoulder, lightly. No point in hurting his cousin for his teasing attitude. "Greedy little stinker, aren't you?"

"What's the point of being friend to a possible demigod if you're not going to get anything from it," he quipped, punching back, fully aware that it wouldn't hurt him at all.

"Boys! Bed!" Alcmene's voice called over their good natured fighting.

"Yes, ma'am," they chorused. In moments, though the sight of the lion and death hung before their eyes, they were fast asleep.

654321

Heracles walked the length of the palace wall, turned and headed back. This was his second time on night watch and it hadn't improved his opinion of it any. Nothing really happened on his watch or on his buddies' watches. It seemed to be some kind of test for the men to see how well they handled the quiet, the solitude, the sheer boredom of the night. _Character building_, he almost heard Cheiron say, _happens more often in the quiet than on the field of battle, boys_.

The palace was situated on a high hilltop, positioned to look out over the entire breadth of the land and beyond. From this vantage point, the borders were clearly defined. With a sigh, he looked skywards to the moon, longing for something he couldn't quite define. Something was stirring inside him and he knew, with the certainty of most twenty year olds, that there was something more to his life than this.

There had to be.

Parting clouds revealed the moon in all its glory. But as it was not even half full, the night was not brightly illuminated. Truly, it was a night for their eyes to be alert and awake. Enemies were almost always threatening the gates as they clashed over land rights or sea trade routes. _It had always been this way. And probably always would_, Heracles thought with a wry grin.

The politics behind it always gave him a head-ache. He was grateful for the younger brother status that allowed him to escape it all. Iphicles was more suited for the political games they played at Court. _He has more patience for fools than I_, Heracles thought with an ironic grin. A part of him wondered where his brother had acquired such tastes for Amphitryon and Alcmene were not into politics.

But he was careful to keep such thoughts to himself. King Eurystheus was jealous of his position and liable to take the slightest word as a sign of treason. Though he was impressed by the youth's strength and abilities, he was also distrustful of them. After all, had it not been for a trick in the order of birth, _Eurystheus_ would be the servant to Iphicles, not the other way around.

Suddenly, the alarm sounded from the west side. Like the other three men on the east wall, Heracles turned away from his post to see what the trouble was.

A party from Lerna was quickly approaching them, their colors were barely discernable under the soot and grime that clung to their clothing. "Grant us safety, we beg of you, King Eurystheus. We seek refuge from attack back home."

"And why should I make your enemies my own?" A high, nasal voice asked. Surprisingly, the voice belonged to none other than the king himself. Of medium height and dark complexion, his appearance was at striking odds amidst his men. Brown eyes studied the group intently, weighing their appearance against what he knew of their land.

"Our enemy will soon become your own whether you help us or not." The same voice responded. It was hard to determine if it was male or female pitched low as it was, but it was an honest voice.

King Eurystheus was sufficiently curious to allow them in. The doors opened slowly, over the advisors protests. The king looked at the assembled men and pointed to a few of them. "You five soldiers, escort them in and make sure that the Dowager Queen greets them in the Great Hall. Her opinion means much to me. The rest of you return to your posts, the night is far from over. I must see that preparations for their stay are started."

"I have already seen to it, sire." A low, melodious sound floated towards their ears. Queen Olena walked over to him, reprimanding him as she did so. The men heard her voice as they descended the stairs and started down the darkened street. "Though I find no fault with your decision, sire, it is most inappropriate of you to be out here and allow your mother to meet them especially as she is ill."

"You are correct as usual, my queen. Shall we?" His arm extended and they disappeared.

Heracles trailed behind the four, rather reluctant to be in this position. He couldn't figure out why he'd been chosen out of the more experienced soldiers. Uneasily aware that there was a certain honor to being a part of the party, he wished that he was back on the wall, bored.

Still, he felt pride in his king.

Instead of waiting for word of the situation as would have been prudent – and what his advisors would've been screaming at him, he had come to see what was going on himself. And the decision that he had made to let them in? Paranoid Eurystheus might be but he could also be generous. He just hid it under a thick layer of sternness and iciness.

Falling into an easy march, they met the refugees and led them into the palace.

Heracles watched the group warily, surprised to see them following a tall woman. Her dark blond hair was bluntly cut to end above the line of her shoulders. She possessed a pair of cold, grey eyes that seemed to scream _hands off_. As if she knew he was studying her, she turned to face him and raised an eyebrow, studying him. Then she turned, dismissing him firmly from mind.

Heracles had the oddest impression that she was testing him and found him lacking. It was the same feeling he got every time he talked with his mother. There was always a heavy sense of expectation in her every time they met. For what, he didn't know.

But he never failed to disappoint her no matter how hard he tried to be good and do better.

As quiet as the night was, there were still some people up and they turned to stare at them as they passed by. They must be an odd sight, regulation guard with pristine uniforms and their determined steps intermingling with the more homespun fabrics and the weary defeat of the Lerna refugees.

King Eurystheus was waiting with Queen Olena at the top of the stairs. Wine red hair flowed to her waist and her brown eyes sparkled in greeting. She was one of the few women Heracles knew who get away with not wearing the veil of a married woman. "Welcome, travelers. You must be weary, so we will not keep you waiting long. Are you hungry after your trek? From your lack of gear, I would say that you left in quite a hurry."

A blink of uncertainty was the only thing that betrayed their leader. Otherwise her face remained composed, very dignified in spite of her appearance. "I would not wish to impose more upon your generosity than we already have, sire."

She laughed, "I am Olena and it is no trouble at all?" she ended on a question, fishing for a name. One could order such a thing but she felt no threat and wanted to be in accord with them.

"Megara." The leader responded to the unspoken question. She bowed and introduced those with her quietly. "If you are sure that it is no trouble?"

"Not at all. Please, come inside and know no more fear this night. Tomorrow, we will discuss what is to be done about your situation. Are there more following you?" King Eurystheus gestured and they followed him.

Megara's head shook, "No. The creature scattered or killed them." It was a startling statement to hear. Lerna was not a small village. It was a densely populated area, so this creature must be huge and quite ruthless. What would they be called upon to fight?

"You have my condolences," Eurystheus murmured, turning to the soldiers. "You may return to your positions now." In his voice was a note of fear and concern for his people. Walled though his city was, it was nothing compared to the defenses of Lerna. If all of its protection couldn't offer safety to its people, what could he do?

"Sir." As one they saluted and left the room. But as Heracles left, he glanced back at the small band of refugees. There was a look on Megara's face that showed her disdain for words, she seemed to be calling for an end to words and a start on the solution.

The next day, he was woken up be a sharp rap on his door. "The king wants to see you, Heracles." His bunkmates, who'd been up with his that night, groaned and flung their shoes at him in protest.

Rising quietly, he pulled on a tunic and strapped on his short sword, then made his way to the throne room. Bowing, he addressed the king, "You wished to see me?"

"Yes. It seems that your fame has spread. You have acquired a new name, Heracles. The Champion, have you any knowledge of it?"

"No." The short answer was no denial. It was truth for he hadn't done any tremendous deeds since the lion. And that had been six years earlier.

"Lady Megara has come with the intent to lead you to Lerna. There you will destroy the hydra – the creature we heard of last night. At least, that's what the Delphic Oracle prophesied when they sought her counsel." There was a faintly accusatory note in his voice.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, trying to read the king's mood. Not being as adept as Iphicles, he found himself frustrated more than anything else. He had to remind himself to mind his temper for he couldn't afford to lose it.

With a frown on his face, Eurystheus contemplated the youth before him. Though they had been born moments apart, already the youth showed more presence and dignity than he did. "Do you think I am a fool, Heracles?" He waved the question aside, unanswered. "Never mind. If it were up to me, I would send you. But the choice must be yours."

"I defer to your wisdom, sire. In all honesty, I see no reason to argue with your judgment." Heracles asked slowly, "When would we be leaving?"

"As soon as you are ready. Megara's waiting at the stables, our swiftest steeds are ready. Shall I send word to your family?" Eurystheus offered, feeling generous now that the decision was made.

Shaking his head, he explained, "It would only worry mother." While he knew that she trusted him, he also knew that a greater reputation would reveal him to harm. More so on his end for he had a temper which had almost caused him grief a few times.

In fact, it was his temper that kept him at home instead of being fostered off to another kingdom. And had placed him in the service of Queen Hera, a fact that still sent shivers down his spine. Though she had yet to show forth her particular brand of mischief against him, he knew that it had to be coming.

"Very well." The king waited until he was at the door, then spoke once more. "And Heracles? Good luck."

"Thank you, sire." He bowed again before leaving. Stopping once to pick up his arrows, he made his way to the stables briskly. Upon entering, he looked around and saw no one. "Hello?"

"About time you showed up," Megara groused, coming out of one of the stalls in the back leading a dapple colored horse behind her. That horse joined two others near the rear exit.

"Three horses? We shouldn't need a third to carry supplies, you've packed as much as I."

"Oh, Herc, do you really think you could leave me behind?" a familiar tenor asked.

"Iolaus!" Heracles was pleasantly shocked. Shocked – and elated because every time he faced a new challenge, his friend had been with him. The only exception was the Nemean lion. The two embraced warmly for they hadn't seen each other since Heracles had been fostered to King Eurystheus. He wasn't even sure were Iolaus had ended up, though it looked like he'd actually become a hunter.

"Can we go now?" Megara impatiently asked. Obviously, as he'd thought upon meeting her previously, this was a woman who preferred action to talking.

"Yes, ma'am." Mockingly, they saluted her. It made him vaguely uncomfortable for the only woman whose orders he'd ever obeyed without question was his mother. Since he couldn't even make a remote connection to her in Lady Megara, this would take a little getting used to.

It was only when they had been riding for a few hours that Heracles thought to ask about the beast they were calling the hydra. He'd never heard of one. As such, he didn't know how they were to defeat it.

Or rather him, if Megara's words were to be believed.

It didn't sound as if he could use the same strategy that he'd used on the lion. Not that he wanted to get that close to another monster. If he had to go up against something impossible to defeat, he wanted to do it from a distance.

She told them all she knew, which wasn't much unfortunately. "It came to us about a month ago. In all honesty, we thought she was a serpent. Although, no serpent I've seen had such a human like bearing. At first, there was no indication of how dangerous she was.

"But then she grew much bigger and the attacks began in earnest. Many men tried to slay her but arrows had a hard time piercing her skin. Swords did more damage but they couldn't kill her. Then there is her breath."

"Breath?" Iolaus asked, following her into the forest. The path was narrow, so they were forced to ride single file.

"Mhmm. If she breathes on you, you'll die." Matter-of-fact.

"Sounds like fire," Heracles said, "Listen, Lady Megara…"

"Megara, if you wouldn't mind. Without my land, I have no title," she interrupted, guiding them to the left.

"Megara, then. I don't know what you expect of me. Oracle or not, I just don't think that I'm your champion."

"I'll agree with you there, Heracles. You're not at all what I imagined the champion to be. But I do not doubt the Oracle and her wisdom. She says that you are the one." She paused and looked back at him, "Have a little faith. The rest will follow."

_Have faith, that's easy for you to say_. But Heracles kept his doubts to himself and listened to Iolaus and Megara talk. Once again, he was grateful for his cousin's presence, the boy had always been better in the company of women than Heracles was. There was always a fear that he'd hurt them with his careless strength.

After a while, he started to look around, feeling eyes on him. He jumped slightly at the sight of a pair of greenish blue eyes. They were gone in seconds and he only saw an old lady hobbling by the roadside, a bag over her back. He dismounted, noting with some apprehension that his companions rode on, not having seen her.

Approaching her, he again felt like he was being watched. The wrinkled face turned towards him, wizened hands resting on the cane in them. "May I help you?"

"No. I am here to help you."

He raised a skeptical brow at her. "Forgive my doubt but how? All the warriors of Lerna fought this creature and failed. So, how can you be of any assistance where their strength did no good?"

She clucked disapprovingly, "Do not let your eyes deceive you, Heracles. Fighting involves more than weapons and muscle. They fought with their hands. You must fight with more than that. You must battle the hydra with your mind."

"I don't understand." _But I want to_, the words went unspoken. He had the oddest feeling that she was aware of them, though she remained bent and harmless looking.

"I think you do, my son." Wise eyes studied him. "The knowledge is within you."

Something tickled his mind, tugged at it, but he shook his head. Cheiron had often given him riddles to teach him to exercise control over his mind and to develop patience. It had only served to make him irritable and less interested in studying. He preferred solid answers, something he could see immediately.

Smiling in sympathy, she patted his hand. "I'll give you a hint. What is it that all creatures fear?"

"Hey, Herc, where are you?" Iolaus called out suddenly.

"My horse stumbled. We'll join you in a moment," he called back irritably, turning back to ask the crone for more information, startled to find her gone. Walking beside his horse, he pondered her strange riddle. As the trio approached the wrecked town, he was no closer to a solution.

And decided to tell his companions of the strange woman with her cryptic message.

"We'll camp here," Megara announced. "Iolaus, get some firewood. Heracles, clean the meat. I'll secure the area."

Over dinner, he told them what the old woman had said to him. "What do you think?"

"Fire," Megara firmly said, explaining when the two looked at her blankly. "Don't you know anything about nature? One would think a hunter of your skill would know this, Iolaus. Animals and men fear fire. Fire causes them to panic because it is hard to control and destructive. It can strike anywhere without warning.

"It was fire that was given to us by the great Prometheus. As a result, he was punished. To honor him, we keep the flame lit. We have learned to control our fear because we know how to control it – but it remains. Fire and lightening are close kins. As we fear Zeus and his rages, we fear the randomness of fire. But we value it no less."

They looked at the huge forest that surrounded the town and then back at her. "Are you suggesting that we set the place ablaze and hope it kills her?" Heracles asked.

"Don't be daft," she snapped. "We'll find her and set a controlled blaze around her. I have enough training in the magical arts to do that. Slaying her will be your job."

"Any ideas beyond that?" Heracles asked, "You've said arrows are no good. That swords increase her strength and size."

"Must I do all the thinking, champion?"

"How about burning her open wounds after cutting off her heads? Won't that stop them from growing back?" Iolaus spoke up. The two turned to him in surprise. He'd been so quiet, they had forgotten his presence. It happened so often that he took it calmly, even if it hurt.

As he was aware that it wasn't deliberate, it made it easier to take.

"Only one way to find out," Heracles grimly said, not rejecting or agreeing with the idea. In truth, he was not looking forward to going in with a half-baked plan – but at least it was something more than they had before. At least now they had some idea of what to do. Even if it was completely crazy.

The morning dawned clear and they made their way to the spring. A hissing sound caught their attention and they froze. Snapping into action, Heracles ordered them into their positions and strode boldly out into the clearing. Before him, a huge serpent was slithering by.

His appearance caught its attention as well. Nine heads swiveled to meet him. Eighteen pairs of eyes glittered hungrily in the shady light. "Breakfast," she hissed, pleased.

"Now!" Heracles hollered before he lost his nerve. Dodging her tail as nimbly as fear locked legs would let him, he rolled to the right and drew his sword. As the sound of flames licked the trees, he cursed himself for forgetting his bow back at the camp. While he knew that it wouldn't really do anything, it would keep the hydra from getting close to him.

Smoke chocked the air and his eyes watered as he searched the sudden darkness for both foe and friend. An arrow zinged by his ear and an angry howl rent the clearing. He wondered if it was Iolaus or Megara who'd fired the shot and how they'd managed to see through the smoke. Shaking off the thought as unimportant at the moment, he went back to concentrating on the battle, trying to hear above the cacophony of sounds rending the peace of the forest.

What birds hadn't been scattered by the fire, fled with cries of fear. Other animals, ones who were farther away from the epicenter of the battle, smelt the smoke and fled to higher, wetter ground. It was hoped that the nymphs would forgive them for the destruction of their woods. That Artemis would turn towards them in assistance and not anger for harming the wild things she protected.

Following the scream of rage and pain, he struck out and hit the hydra's side. Through the din, he heard it howl and felt a sharp sting in his shoulder. Another arrow pierced and widened the gap between them again. Hot blood stung his skin and he dived away from the biting, attacking heads.

"Herc!" Iolaus was suddenly there, sword in one hand and two blazing torches in the other. "Megara's got us covered, but she can only do so much before the smoke gets her."

Catching the blazing torch in one hand, he turned with a nod. Slashing the on coming head, he set the gaping hole on fire. His nose twitched and he flinched away from the scent of burning flesh that was all around. Bile rose up his throat and he forced it down, continuing to fight. There was a reason he hated – absolutely _**detested**_ – being in or near the Temples on the days of sacrifices.

Madness surrounded them in this massacre. The hydra was vicious and faster than they expected, constantly ducking their swings and biting them. Scratching them, clawing them, she almost had them pinned beneath her greater weight before Megara's arrows drove her back momentarily.

With both men hacking away and burning the wounds shut, the fight was bloody but rapidly turning around in their favor. Struggling against death, she howled before they finally succeeded in tearing off her last head. They wrapped it up tight and burned the body and blood left behind.

No sense in taking any chances that another such creature could be raised from her remains. It wasn't unheard of that such things could happen to monsters. They could be born of Gaea without her consent and gain strength from her.

For a moment, they watched the flames eating at the barrier before stomping it out. They would take no chance that any of their flames would destroy more of the woods. "We'll have to replant the area before we go. Try to minimize the damage done," Iolaus murmured. Hunter though he was, he also valued the soul of the forest and the animals that dwelt there.

It was one reason he was so favored of the gods.

While waiting for the flames of the hydra's pyre to die out, they washed as thoroughly as they could in the murky water, wincing occasionally as the salty water hit open wounds. Megara tended the burns on his skin.

"Still have doubts?" she asked, once she began tending to Iolaus' wounds.

He didn't know what to say and was silent.

Iolaus and Heracles saw her off at the palace. "What are you going to do with that?" he asked, referring to the only head they'd kept from the slaughter.

Herc shrugged, "I'm thinking of giving it to Cheiron."

"Nothing says _thanks for the boring lessons_ like something dead, Herc."

"Would you rather hang it on your wall?" he asked, a grin crossing his face. "I'm sure that'll bring the girls over in droves."

"I don't need the help," he sniffed.

"Yes, you do."

5 Years Pass:

Heracles' fame spread and he was forced to leave official service to the king. Unofficially, he was employed as both emissary and odd job man by Eurystheus. The situation was much more agreeable to both men and they reaped the benefits of the partnership equally.

At the moment, Heracles was sitting in Megara's kitchen, his head resting in his hands. She sat across from him, watching his behavior for a few moments in silence. Finally, she picked up the mug to his left and slammed it down in front of him.

He looked up, eyes wide with shock.

Their friendship –if one could call it that – had allowed them to become far more companionable than most males and females. And she'd stopped being so abrupt with him. So, the return to the somewhat adversarial relationship stunned him.

"What is your problem now, champion?" Her voice was intentionally sharp. "I've seen livelier faces in death."

"King Eurystheus' daughter wants me to get her the girdle of Queen Hippolyta."

She whistled, for once at a loss for a snappy reply. "Are you going to go?"

"I don't have much of a choice in the matter." His eyes were hopeful as he looked at her, remembering her quick fighting skills and leadership abilities. "You wouldn't by chance happen to be an ex-Amazon, would you, Megara?"

"I'm afraid not, Heracles. Why?" Megara asked, though she had a feeling she already knew. It was something she herself would've asked anyone who'd shown the same kind of talents that she had. While they were not uncommon in a woman around the Sparta and the lower half of Achaea, up here, a woman with those talents was rather unknown – unless she happened to be an Amazon.

He picked up the mug and took a sip before answering. "I need to know what to expect from them and how to react properly. Are they really as monstrous as I've heard?"

"They aren't." A toneless voice that couldn't quite cover the disgust she felt about the rumors about the Amazons answered him. "Let me get in touch with my cousin, Lycia. She is one. But I'd give up this hunt if I were you, Heracles. It can only lead to a confrontation with Ares – something which you should desperately avoid. He is, after all, the true protector of the Amazons," she finished, standing back up.

Heracles rose as well, "I know that. The last thing I need is to fight the god of war himself. As impetuous and hot headed as he is, he is still a fighter of considerable skill. I might be able to defeat him but it would be a long and hard battle. But like I said, Eurystheus has even less chance of getting out of this mess because of that brat's wishes. The late and dearly missed Queen would be ashamed of her. Unfortunately, she is his only heir and can't be spanked."

"Careful with your words, Heracles. You're coming close to sounding treasonous," she cautioned as they walked outside and he leaned against the doorframe. Privately she agreed with him.

"I'm not being treasonous. Eurystheus is the right person for the job. But that chit…she's really going to drive this kingdom to ruins if she doesn't straighten up soon," he sighed, seeing only disaster if that selfish brat continually had her way in everything. He really wished that Queen Olena hadn't gotten sick and been taken from the King's side.

Catching sight of the sun's position on the horizon, he pushed up and turned towards home. "Thanks for listening, Meg. I need to get going. Now that Iphicles is off training for war, mother wants me to do some work around the house."

"You think you'll finish her fence?" she teased him, grinning at his shamed blush.

"It isn't my fault that something always happens right after I start. And it isn't like Iolaus is around to help," he defended himself.

She quirked an eyebrow at him, "You are the strongest man in the known world. You've faced huge lions, horrible monsters, and defeated dirty stables. And you need help to build a fence? I can build one in less time than it has taken you, and I don't need assistance."

Flustered, he stammered for a few moments, before shrugging it off. "Well, Meg, you are far more capable than I."

Wisely, she said nothing to that comment. "I'll send you word after I get hold of Lycia."

"I'd appreciate that," he said, waving to her and walking down her path, making sure to close the gate behind him.

Megara reentered her house and sat down, thinking about what to write. This would be the trickiest letter she'd ever sent. "Let me think, they'd be wintering at the old homestead about now," she mused.

'_Dear Lycia,  
__I'm sure you've heard of my new home and the friends I've made. There's one named Heracles. Yes, __**that **__Heracles. We're not friends in the conventional sense of the word but he is someone I can count on to come through for me in a pinch. And he comes to me for aid, making him a rarity among the men of this commune.  
__He has been charged to do a task that relates to you and your people. Please, we both desire your help to avoid a big mistake made by a selfish brat who thinks that she's entitled to whatever she wants, no matter the cost to others.  
__And refuses to be told that she can't. You know me, I rarely endorse spanking women. I hardly think it the right thing to do since we are rarely allowed to strike back even in the most justified of cases.  
__In her case, I make an exception.  
__Yours, Megara_.'

Hoping that she'd respond, if not favorably, then at least with curiosity, Meg sent the letter on its way. That curiosity which had led Lycia to the Amazons in the first place had also kept them closer than most cousins. It was through Lycia that she'd met and become friends with the Amazons – and why she'd been allowed to train with them.


	3. The Return of the Queen of the gods

_Author's Note: This takes only on Olympus and has to deal with Heracles' next task. Hera's eyes are green when she's calm and peaceful. When she gets upset or nervous, they change to grey_.

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"Mother!" A petulant voice rang through the nearly empty garden.

"Ares, lower your voice. I am right here." The Queen of the gods addressed her son in low, melodious tones, rising gracefully to her feet. As always, she studied her son critically, looking for signs that he'd been in a scuffle or a fight. Once she was assured of his safety, she addressed him. "You must learn to exercise patience."

"I'm the God of War. I have no need for such things." He scowled at her, impatient with her calmness, with the fact that she was not more concerned with his concerns. Then again, his mother hadn't been the same since she'd gone away years earlier. Dismissing those thoughts from mind, he focused on what was truly important. And that was his problem.

"That is why you constantly lose in battle and in life," she remonstrated him sharply, stung by the blatant reminder of how she herself behaved. He was too much like she had been in regards to Zeus' lovers. "You fail to think beyond your first or second moves."

Stormy grey eyes clashed with her serene green ones. "I did not come here for this lecture, mother, especially since I've heard it before. Father is going to let his mortal whelp take the girdle that I gave to Queen Hippolyta. You must talk him out of it. He won't listen to me speak about the injustice of this act. Nor does he have a right to allow such a thing to happen."

"I promise nothing, you know your father as I do. But I will speak to him as you are correct about the injustice of this task. It does overstep the rights of mortals." Thankfully, her voice remained composed, though she knew that any waver would be taken as a sign of fury.

"Thanks." Short. The dark haired god stalked off.

Hera watched him go with a sigh, asking herself why she was doing this. Why had she agreed to talk with Zeus? Why was she going to attempt any such action when she knew – _she knew _– that Zeus would not listen to her. Upon matters concerning his mortal children, he never did, though she knew he relied upon her counsel when it came to matters of ruling the heavens. She hadn't realized how much he valued her input until she realized that he continually sought her out after her return.

Brushing off her hands, she left her garden in the hands of the nymphs to seek Aphrodite. If she was to speak to Zeus, she had to make sure he didn't toss her out first. And the best way to assure that was to grab and hold his attention in the only way that seemed to matter to him – her beauty.

It had been many months – years in fact, since she had actually taken care of her appearance. There had seemed to be no reason for it when she had removed herself from the active life on Olympus, though she sat in counsel with him several times at his request.

The goddess of love kept rooms near the bottom of the Olympian complex – near Hephaestus' constantly working forge. She loved dropping in on her husband unexpectedly. It also gave their rooms a sauna like feel, keeping her complexion rosy and her figure slender.

Hera wondered how the two had discovered each other. Not that she was complaining for she was delighted that her son found happiness and that there was one divine marriage that kept true to its vows – even if several centuries had passed before it got to that point. The last she knew, Aphrodite was with Ares and despised her husband.

Her hand rose to knock, pausing and turning towards the sound of approaching footsteps. They were familiar to her and she felt a sense of relief. She would not have to face Aphrodite in the role of a petitioner, not alone at least.

Coming up and around the winding staircase, Hephaestus' dark head appeared. As usual, his scared face was covered in a layer of sweat and sooty ash. Having lived among mortals for a time, she felt shame that she had thrown him away because he had not the ideal looks of the gods.

No, he was not considered beautiful by the gods – but mortals would have found his looks pleasing, may even have changed their ideas of beauty. Through mortal understanding, Hera realized that this was a mark against the gods. They were so concerned with physical beauty that they could not recognize the true beauty of a loyal and kind heart.

Glad she was that she had finally learned to do so. It made her perceptions of mortals and their weaknesses far more unbiased. There was a greater understanding within her that she wished she'd had earlier.

"Mother," he smiled, genuinely glad to see her. Once, in their now distant past, it hadn't been that way. Of course, he was far fonder of her than he was of Zeus for, while she had apologized for what she had done, he knew Zeus never would.

Hera may have thrown him out because she had not been able to see beyond what her eyes saw, but she had repented almost immediately because of her motherly attachment towards him and made sure that he was safe. Zeus had tossed him out just for siding with her. His leg was twisted, damaged even beyond their ability to heal from that fall.

Nevertheless, it did not impair his undeniable skill and craftsmanship. She was so proud of him and knew she didn't tell him that enough. Privately, she was resolved to let him know that more often for he – of all her immortal children – deserved to hear it. While she loved Hebe, Ares, Eris, and Eileithyria as any mother would, Hephaestus had become her most favored child.

"What brings you down here?"

"I desire an audience with your wife," there was a strained note in her voice that he picked up on.

"Ares complained to you about this latest task of Heracles?" he shrewdly guessed. It wasn't really something that even needed asking. As he had designed the intricate loops and sheath for the girdle that Athena had woven, he knew what thought and care Ares had put into the creation of it.

And to what lengths Ares would go in order to keep it where it was.

Hera nodded, moving to the side so he could walk into his rooms. "I must speak to Zeus."

Opening the door, he gestured for her to follow him in. "You must be thrilled at the prospect," sarcastic.

"The heart just stops at the thought."

It was no secret that the relationship between the King and Queen of the gods was strained, though amicable. For once, it had nothing to do with Zeus' constant infidelities. Hera had gone for a vacation almost forty-six years earlier and had decided to stay.

Zeus, for whatever reason, desired her return after the twenty-five year agreement had passed. He had granted her an extra year, that was true – but he wanted her back. The sooner, the better.

No one knew for sure if it was a matter of wounded pride or because he didn't like to be denied his will, but he went after her. The heavens were a frenzy of fierce activity for hours until there was sudden calm.

An almost unnatural stillness.

She had returned, pale and withdrawn, a shadow of her former self, behind him. One didn't need to have the sight to realize that there was something deeply wrong with her.

She had been silent, remaining mostly in her quarters for the first few weeks. Once, she had taken pride in her appearance and in being with the other gods, such pleasure had ebbed away. While she did her job, while she cared for the mortal women and children she was watching over, she did it with a more personal, a more compassionate touch

After all these centuries, she had finally grown into the title of mother of mortals.

Even her beloved daughter Hebe could not reach her and bring her out of her sorrow, out of her self-imposed exile. For all intents and purposes, Hera might not have even been back on Olympus for all that anyone really saw of her.

Yes, she sat at his side when meetings were held and was there for important occasions, but she wasn't really _there_ as she once had been. And when told of the newest acquisition to Zeus' growing horde, she hadn't reacted. There had been no tears, no recriminations, no raging battle.

There had been no vicious attack on his mortal lover – which confused him more than anyone else. So, may be Aphrodite's off hand comment was right. May be he took mortal lovers in order to reassure himself that Hera did, indeed, love him to the exclusion of all else.

That she had sent two serpents into the child's crib could not be denied. But ever since then, nothing had happened to the mother or to the boy. The labors he performed for the king were somewhat menial and humiliating, even beneath a man of his pedigree and heritage.

But they were not of her obvious doing, other than that his mother had indentured him to Hera as penance for a violent crime he'd committed against his music teacher.

Although, most admitted that if Eileithyria had arrived at Amphitryon's home earlier, they would be living the high life as the rulers of Tiryns. They suspected that Hera had been behind the delay. But none could prove it for her actions had revealed no joy or glee that she'd subverted Zeus' promise that the first child born that day of his lineage would be King. Though Iphicles would have been the king, Heracles would have been elevated from servant to prince.

"Hera," Aphrodite's voice was cool as she greeted her, at marked odds with her delighted "Hephy!"

"Aphrodite," Hera nodded, turning away from the tender sight of their greeting. If had been a long time since she had greeted Zeus in such a manner – a very long time and her heart twisted inside, missing those days and that joy.

After a moment, Hephaestus cleared his throat and explained the situation to his wife. Brow puckered up slightly in confusion, the love goddess walked up to Hera, circling around her as she studied her critically. The ragged nails and uneven hair had her head shaking in dismay.

While it was true that Hera lacked her usual elegance, there was a rough beauty to her that still showed through, a more earthy appeal. Had Paris seen her, he might have judged in her favor but she hadn't even been interested. "I don't understand why you've come to see me. But I will try to help."

"Thank you," it cost her to say the words. She was a proud woman and accepting help irked her but she knew that she had no other choice. "I just need to hold his attention long enough to ask him to stop this. Or find another way to handle this."

"But why don't you stop it?" Aphrodite was, naturally, curious like everyone else to know the reason for Hera's continued apathy.

"If Zeus won't do anything, I will." Hera added softly, "I would rather not. These losing battles weary me."

"I understand," oddly enough, she did. The many battles that had characterized the relationship of the King and Queen of the gods had been legendary – and often left them all ducking for cover. And cover in the open and airy Olympian complex was not easy to find. "Come along."

An hour passed in which she was pampered and bathed. Where she was poked and prodded, her nails painted, and her hair soaked, washed, and trimmed. Hera emerged from the room she and Aphrodite had been in, a new woman from the one who'd disappeared into it.

When she'd stared at her reflection in the bronze surface, she could hardly recognize herself in the face staring back at her. It was the face of a woman she hadn't seen in twenty-five hundred years, since the silver age of man.

For once, her long, red hair was uncovered and uncrowned. Strands of rubies were woven through it, bringing out the red tints in it. Her face was unadorned except for the black kohl Aphrodite had used to emphasize the shape and deep color of her eyes. Dressed in a gown of deep, peacock green which deepened the green of her eyes, she stood before them, majesty personified.

When Aphrodite generously offered her the girdle that made women irresistible to men, Hera politely refused, hiding a shiver at the memory of Zeus' lovemaking. Her skin flushed and tingled with remembered pleasure. Both of which she ignored, knowing that she couldn't afford to lose sight of what she wished to accomplish. She knew if she fell into his arms now, she'd be forever entangled with him.

And that was something she did not want to happen.

After so long of just being known as his wife, she was rediscovering who Hera really was and that goddess was not the vindictive creature most mortals thought about.

Her vacation had been about remembering the woman who'd never let being in her father's belly destroy her confidence that rescue was coming. The woman who held out faith in the one she'd dreamed about, knowing that he would rescue them even when her siblings had lost faith. Side by side, she'd defended this man with all that she was.

Upon victory, she'd gone off alone to contemplate, to mourn the loss of life. To be alone – and found that he'd followed her. First, to offer her comfort and then…then revealed his desire to bed her.

Though he had a wife, he wanted her as well. This was something she could not tolerate for Métis had been a woman she admired, respected. And so, betrayal was anathema to her, no matter how appealing he was – and Zeus was nothing if not appealing.

Thus, she became the woman who resisted the god all the others were sighing over with lust and wanton need. That was something she did not want to lose, no matter how much her heart plead for a return to her husband as a full partner. "Thank you but no. I don't want to bed him. I just want him to relent."

"You might do better once he's been sated but it's your choice." Aphrodite's shrug was casual, critically studying Hera, accepting the answer. "I must say that he will have trouble resisting you."

Hera nodded, knowing it for the warning it was.

Still, she knew what she had to do. As a protector of women, she had to step up and do this – no matter the cost to herself. And she knew the cost would be great should Zeus decide he wanted her again.

Taking a deep breath, she moved purposefully towards the double doors forged in bronze. It was the hardest thing she'd ever done as she made her way up to the throne room. She knew that there would be many witnesses to this humiliation, there had always been.

But this was a humbling of herself she made of her own free will.

Apollo's music filled her ears with its unearthly beauty. "Courage," she whispered, reminding herself firmly that she wasn't here to enjoy his playing.

Straightening her shoulders, she opened the large doors and entered the room she hadn't been in since her return to Olympus. Ignoring the startled whisperings as she stood there at the top of the stairs, just adjusting to the brightness of the room before moving towards Zeus.

As usual, he was the sole focus of her attention, though she was not immune to the others in the room as recognition dawned on them of who she was. From the first moment she saw him, she knew that he was the ruler of the Heavens and the one to whom she would tie her loyalty to, though she hadn't meant in marriage back then. He had brought her out of the darkness and into the light and she would forever be grateful to him for that gift.

The music stopped, for even Apollo was not immune to this shocking sight of the ethereal beauty who could truly rival Aphrodite.

For once, her husband was alone at his throne. No cupbearer, no beautiful nymph stood beside him – or leaned over him. She almost wished there was. A little anger at his causal disregard of their vows would help give her the impetus she needed to speak to him.

Not that she feared him. It had been a long time since fear of him had filled her heart. No, what kept her from stepping forward was a lack of words to say. A wish to remain quiet, sheltered from this backstabbing world, and to do her job to the best of her ability.

Yet, this task was a part of her job. Her pride swallowed once again, she knelt before him.

He raised stunned eyes to her. The woman's unadorned beauty left him speechless. Who was this stunning creature? Trying hard to place her, he could not recognize her out of all the goddesses and demigoddesses he knew upon Olympus nor did she seem to be one of the nymphs or dryads that populated the earth and followed his children about. But he knew that he knew this woman.

And then he heard her speak.

"My lord and king, noble Zeus, I have come to ask a favor of you."

There was a clatter, his cup dropped from a suddenly nerveless hand and rolled to rest against her knee, drops of his drink spattering the floor. That smoky, sultry voice he knew full well for he'd heard it many times. In his dreams, as they made love, as she yelled at him, as she teased him mercilessly…it was the voice that had always caught his attention first.

Rising to his feet unsteadily, he approached the kneeling woman, almost disbelieving his ears. _Was it possible that she had humbled herself before him? Did she think that this was what he wanted of her_? Of all the moods he'd seen her in, humble petitioner left him feeling ill. This was the haughty beauty he called wife?

The proud goddess he adored like no other who'd ever entered his life?

Strong hands tilted her chin up and his deep-set eyes widened. It was indeed her and he wept inside, still unable to find his voice. She had never been so humbled – even upon emerging, ragged, dirty, and foul smelling from Kronus' belly, she'd been spitting fire and fury at them all. This was a new look to his wife – and he hated it.

Hera should never be so bowed, especially to reclaim her place by his side. Why call it a favor? She _knew_ he wanted her back. Seeking out her counsel, asking her to be there for council meetings…he couldn't have been clearer if he'd followed her around like a starving puppy, begging for scraps of her affection.

They stayed like that, the only two people in the universe, in the midst of the assemblage for moments before he became aware of the curious and faintly mocking eyes. The malicious voices whispering and jeering at her, about her, the voices of those happy that she was so humiliated before them.

Rage swept through him at the insult done his wife by these fools with their small minds and inability to understand the kind of passionate and loyal woman that Hera was. This woman who had done more for the safety and welfare than all of those pitiful creatures would ever be able to do.

"Out! And I will hear nothing of this!" A roll of thunder and crash of lightening accompanied his words. The ground rumbled underneath them, pillars cracked. They fled before him, leaving them alone in the room, terrified of his fury.

After all, one incensed the King of the gods at their own peril.

Apollo was the last to leave and he stationed himself in front of the doors. Though he didn't think any would be fool enough to come back, he felt that someone should bar the doors from the curious – or the rare few who simply did not know what occurred. Zeus had made his point pretty clear that it was not to be spoken or gossiped about.

Artemis joined him moments later, carrying something under her arm. "Want to play?"

"Why not," Apollo sat down and waited for her to set the game up, grateful for her company. Something told him that this would be a long vigil.

Zeus pulled her to her feet, tightly holding her hands, feeling the softness of them. Smelling her subtle perfume, "why did you do that?"

Her eyes remained focused on the ground. "It is what petitioners do," she gently reminded him.

"You are no petitioner. You are my wife!" His voice echoed harshly in the empty room.

"It is not my welfare that I seek aid for, most honored king. Therefore, I cannot speak to you as a wife would to her husband," she softly said, glancing up at him through her lashes.

Though puzzled by what his voice said, by the message his eyes were conveying she pressed on, "I ask that you intercede with this trial of Heracles. It is not right that he steal from the Amazons the symbol of their right to choose their own life's path."

"This isn't really about them or their rights, Hera. Don't try to treat me like a fool. This is about my son. His destiny is clear. Even you cannot interfere as you so often have my other mortal children."

Zeus moved away, dropping her hands, turning from the truth in her words. Half angry that after all of this time of separation, she was only here because of his son. There was no sense that she had missed him even half as much as he had her. Though her appearance spoke of her efforts to please him, it hurt that it was only to get his attention so that he would grant her this boon.

"If you choose him over their rights, if you choose to sacrifice these women for Heracles, know that I will do what I must to serve and protect them. If the task was any other, I would not interfere. I am through with that. But this violates the women I protect and serve." Her clearly spoken words were calm, intent, and reasoned. There was no sign of the turmoil she was feeling as she faced his back, hating that she was once more in this position of fighting with him.

"Are you threatening me?" he hissed, turning to face her once more.

Unbidden, her hand reached out to him in silent appeal.

It dropped before making contact for it would have been a useless act. "I do no such thing for there is no need to be so irrational for you are not an unkind god. But you know that it is within my sphere to protect women. All women.

"Zeus, I will not be standing alone in this matter," she carefully reminded him. Wishing that she could read his mood as once she had. "Artemis and Athena will be moved to stand with me. Athena is your favorite and often stands beside you. In this you know that she will not. She will not condone this barbaric thievery."

Grey and intense dark eyes clashed, lightening flashing momentarily. Finally, he acquiesced. He knew full well that she was right – even his beloved child would stand against him. "I will do what I can do to protect them. Still, he will visit them for they have lessons he will learn in no other place."

"Thank you, mighty Zeus." Hera bowed but was jerked upright.

"Unless I say so, you do not bow down to me." There was a threat in that tone that sent shivers of fear – and awareness – through her. The storm in his eyes died when he saw that she accepted his edict, when he saw the longing there that she couldn't quite disguise or hide from him.

The passion…it had been a long time since he'd just held her in his arms, breathing her in. Far to long since she had lain in bed with him, basking in the aftermath of their coupling where few words had been spoken between them and the touches had been gentle but no less affecting.

It had been a long time since they'd made love.

And seeing her thus brought up his never dying passion – and his intense love – for her anew. The real reasons for the make-over disappeared into thin air. While pain was still in his heart, it faded as he looked into her bewitching eyes. All other lovers aside, only she captivated him eternally.

All that mattered was her – and him, the way they affected each other.

Now, that she had come before him freely, he wanted her to resume her _full_ duties as wife. It wasn't breaking his word for she'd known that this was the probable outcome of any meeting they had.

"Tell me, wife, have you ever wanted to make love on a throne?" he teased, knowing that his prim and oh so proper wife had never even contemplated such an act of hedonistic pleasure.

Her eyes widened, recognizing the predatory glint in his eyes. Backing away as quickly as she could, she moved towards the door, "Zeus, I didn't come here for this. Don't…" she warned, one hand outstretched to ward him off, futile though it was.

The other went behind her, preparing to find and open the door as quickly as it could. That old awareness, that passion that had always been alive for him, jumped to life under the fire in his eyes.

Only one other had ever been able to reach her passion so quickly, so immediately.

He wickedly smiled, following her. This was an old dance for them, one he missed. His other conquests fought for a time but quickly gave in to him. Hera, even when she yielded to his embrace, to his passion, never surrendered to him. "I love it when you play hard to get. Come here, wife. We'll postpone your introduction into decadence for another time."

Even as her hand closed over the door knob, she never got it open to get into the hall outside. The hall that promised an escape from this. His arms trapped her against the door, firmly securing it before dropping down to pull her into his arms. Jerking her closer to him and thoroughly ravishing her lips, they disappeared into thin air.

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Dropping an occasional kiss on her hair, his powerful hand traced her shoulder lightly. Her head was tucked up under his chin and the faint hint of her perfume drifted through their room again. Up until this moment, he hadn't realized how much he missed it. It was subtle but no less substantial for being hard to detect. Odd as it was to him, she preferred the lighter scent, not wanting her senses to be disconnected from everything about her.

As the loneliness eased, he realized how much he truly missed her just being beside him. She was the permanency in his life that he all too often needed, no matter what everyone – including her – thought. "You should wear you hair uncovered more often, my love."

"Why?" she asked drowsily, turning to look up at him. Her eyes sleepily noted the disarray of his dark locks with appreciation. Pleased to see the exhausted look in the dark brown orbs that looked at her with such affection.

She had forgotten how complete and whole he could make her feel with just that one look.

Taking another look at her, the red hair in disarray from his constant ministrations. Her lips full and swollen from his kisses, eyes dropped with seductive sleepiness, he quickly changed his mind even as the temptation to make love to her again swept through him.

If she looked like this all the time, he'd be fighting off suitors all the time. And resisting the urge to take her whenever and wherever they were. Not that that wasn't to bad an idea, it might stop him from straying as often as he did.

Of course, Olympus might fall apart if he did that. They were needed far too much. "Never mind. No man or god ought to see you thus. You are mine."

It was a possessive sound and her eyes flashed, reacting instantly to it. The lethargy quickly fleeing as anger took its place.

"Oh, really?" she spat the words at him, pulling away almost roughly. "You said I was free to do as I choose. Are you now reneging our deal just because of this fling? I did not come back for this diversion, no matter how skilled and pleasant it is." Hera got out of the bed, glaring down at him, half wishing for a covering robe. She felt that she was at a distinct disadvantage.

"Fling? Diversion? Such spirited words, wife. Almost you convince me of your sincerity," he mocked, rising as well.

"I have a name. Use it." She turned away from him, angry that she'd given in to him.

Twice.

But it had been hard to resist him. She wondered how she'd managed to do so for so long. They'd never made love with that much intensity, that much passion. Even after an argument, they had not fed off of each other as they had that night – and she was still holding back with him.

This time, they'd both gone to the high, dizzying heights she'd only ever heard others talk about. It was why she'd been so furious with Teiresias when he said that women enjoyed sex far more than men – because she never really had.

Until Philon that was.

He'd introduced her to the possibility – but only Zeus could take her to the peak and higher up. Up and over that edge into blissful madness and completion.

"Don't turn your back on me." Zeus whipped her around, tightly gripping her arm. "I am not one of your followers to be dismissed from your mind once you've finished with them."

"I could say the same of you," she sneered, pulling away. Though her arm hurt, his tone of voice stung her, she refused to show him just how much. "Would you force me to stay?"

He reared back, shocked at the venom in her voice. It was a new sound, one he could hardly reconcile coming from her. It made him wonder if there was something more going on that he wasn't seeing, something that she was keeping from him.

The thought made him quieter, sadder. Far more aware of the delicate balance he needed to walk if he didn't want her to leave him again. A chance that was still there for he had promised her eons ago that he would never force her to stay if she truly wanted to go – and he already knew that she didn't need him as much as he really needed her.

Though it hadn't been apparent to any of the gods, without her he'd found himself having to double check all that he did. He'd often made a decision without fully considering the consequences of that action – and having to find a way to repair the damage he'd inadvertently caused. The trouble, he knew, was that he was always up and doing.

It had often been up to Métis and then Hera to get him to stop and think over his actions. No, she was not the most _comfortable_ of wives, and far from the most docile, but she'd always helped him do his very best. Even as balance had to exist between mortals, it was a necessity for the gods.

As corny as it sounded, their great power meant that they had a greater responsibility to be aware of everything that they did for it affected something else in ever widening waves.

"Is that what you think of me? That I would raise a hand in violence against you?"

But in the pale light of the stars, he could see the faint bruises he'd left on her skin. The painful color marred her creamy skin, reminding him of his greater physical strength. Unlike the other bruises he'd inadvertently caused her because of their heated lovemaking, these mocked him with their presence. A trembling hand rose to soothe the hurt away but stopped when she flinched at the sight. Her involuntary cringe hurt more than if she'd reared back and punched him.

How had he lost her trust, her respect?

"Do you really think so little of me, Hera?" The question hung between them. His pained voice sounded in the room, confusion in the depths, tiny and lost sounding.

"No," she finally replied, closing her eyes in weary defeat. She couldn't lie to him about this. For all his dangerous moods, he'd never, ever raised a hand in violence against her. Even when she and the other gods had tried to overthrow him, he'd never once hit her. There were other, far more affective ways to subdue her that he employed.

Lips lightly traced the bruises and she shivered, feeling his arms surround and pull her into his warmth after a moment. Pull her back into the headiness that was Zeus and his passion. Her head rested limply against his broad chest, breathing in his musky scent.

As much as she hated her weakness, she gloried in the evidence of her power over him.

For she knew full well that none of his other lovers had so affected him, none of them could no matter how long their affair may last. It was only with her that he could let go. Only with her was he fully able to just be. She just wished that he would discover that she wasn't just a necessity in this marriage, that she wasn't merely a warm and available body.

That he would start to appreciate her as a partner, not just a possession. If only he could do that, may be, just may be she could accept his wandering eye with more poise. It was just possible that she would feel that connection to him and so, be able to truly feel his love whenever he strayed.

But she didn't think it would happen and she'd forever be filled with doubt over her place in his life because he never really talked to her about how he felt.

His shaky voice finally found words, "Titans, but you drive me mad, my wife." Not only had she done that, she had fully entered his system, had become central to him and he wasn't sure how to shake her. He wasn't sure he _wanted_ to shake her for she was a vital part of who he was now.

"As you do me, my husband." The last word passed her lips bitterly. What little respect she regained for herself, drained away leaving her empty and unfulfilled.

_Does he even think about what he does to me_, she asked herself. Meekly following him back to their cooling bed, she joined her lips to his, half angrily. She opened herself up to him again, drowning once more in the flame ignited within her. _He's an addiction I can't seem to shake. I am dependent on the high he provides. Madly, truly, deeply, I am his_.

Zeus slowly drew out the kiss, feeling victory but it felt hollow rather than triumphant. There was something missing between them, some connection that was lacking, a canker sore that needed healing. Words entered his mind, things to say, but he kept silent. Words were never something that he used with Hera. His actions had always been enough.

They always would be for she knew his mind and his heart.


	4. Grief and New Adventures and Old Friends

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Lycia and Megara walked the stony path towards Heracles' mother's house, the Amazon grumbling the whole time. It went against the grain to be seeing this man but Meg's words rang in her ears. The queen's girdle meant a lot to them, more than anyone could guess. If she could convince him to leave it where it was, then she'd swallow her pride and do it.

"What is this Heracles really like, Meg?" she finally asked, turning to her panting cousin. If she hadn't been so upset, so worried by what she read and heard, she would've commented about how out of shape living in the city had made her. "We get some stories from the mainland but nothing that gives one an impression of the person behind the story. So, what is he really like?"

"He's loyal and willing to do whatever task King Eurystheus places before him – no matter how menial or degrading. And, while he has some choice, it's not much. Due to an…event in his youth, he is bound to serve and obey Queen Hera and she uses King Eurystheus to give him these tasks. The real story behind what happened, I am not entirely sure about for neither Iolaus nor he will tell me about it.

"But because of his…unusual parentage, one would think that she would be harder towards him. And she isn't – these tasks almost seem geared towards helping him learn control. Except for his latest one, he almost ended up with a bride." This was spoken with a frown, remembering when he'd tricked her into helping him clean out a rank and despicable stable for one of the neighboring kings.

"Then he won't be easy to dissuade," Lycia sighed, hand idly drumming the hilt of her sword. Why must there be such determination to destroy another's beliefs just because they are misunderstood? Why must men so distrust them because of the way the chose to live and, thus, spread such lies of them?

And why did men have to be so stubborn about women and their place in the world?

Meg shook her head, understanding what she was thinking but had no answer to offer her. There never seemed to be an answer to those questions for every city seemed to have different mores when it came to the way their subjects lived. "Heracles may be loyal but he isn't above subterfuge. That is something I both thank Iolaus for – and curse him for."

"Iolaus?" Lycia asked, catching a familiar sound in her voice. Was she really going to have to watch the uncomfortable dance her cousin did around men she liked?

"No, you won't be meeting that rascal," Meg said, clearly reading her mind. "For some strange reason, his cousin Orestes has asked him to help him out. Anyway, if he can do a task without harming those involved, that is the course Heracles prefers. He doesn't care to be the center of attention or controversy."

"I see," Lycia chewed on that thought for a moment, then straightened up as they came into view of a pleasant looking house. Something about it registered with her, the familiar feel of a warrior's dwelling, though it was a bit more domestic than she cared for. "This is his home."

"Actually, it's my mom's," a deep voice spoke from the yard and they turned towards it. Though the sunlight was to his side, almost blocking his expression, they both caught sight of the welcome smile on his face. "If by he, you mean me. I am Heracles, Meg's told me of you. You're not what I expected, Lycia of the Amazons."

She bristled at the implied slight but relaxed slightly when she saw the respect in his face. This man, surprisingly, did not degrade or mock her; he was merely making a statement of fact. She supposed she could forgive him for prejudging her if all he had to go on was rumors.

Having heard some tales of him, she was disappointed to see how normal he looked. This was not the man she expected to meet having once stood in the presence of Ares himself. If he really was a demigod, it did not show. "I admit that you are not what I expected either, Heracles. You're missing the bulging muscles of impossible size."

He smiled, appreciating her sharp rejoinder. "So I've been told," he stuck the shovel in his hands into the ground and brushed them off. "I also lack the groupies."

"Oh, you have those – your mother just doesn't want them anywhere around her home. They have a tendency to ruin her lawn and scare the animals," Meg dryly commented.

Walking towards them, he asked, quite seriously. "If I held open the gate for you, would you find it offensive?" The closer he got, the sharper Lycia's features became. Tall with dark hair and brown eyes, her body toned from years of hard work, she was the definition of a warrior.

"I'll forgive you this once because we are your guests," she replied. As she became aware of his study, she stiffened. His eyes refused to leave her chest.

A vicious slap and the firm grip on his face ended that abruptly. Any good will she'd felt, any benefit of the doubt she'd been willing to give him, died in that moment. "Hero boy, I am up here. I do not appreciate you treating me like wares in a market place to be examined at will." Frigid.

"I do apologize, Lady of the Amazons, for my actions. But rumor has it that you burn off a left breast to make archery easier," Heracles stammered, unable to bear the weight of the disgust in her brown eyes.

"And they also paint us as blood thirsty, man killing monsters." Her hand dropped away in disdain, making a rubbing motion as though trying to rub off the touch of his skin.

She couldn't believe that she'd almost had faith in this man and wondered how he'd duped Meg. Of the two of them, Meg was usually sharper on assessing a character's true self. That ability had often helped them out of a bad situation. "I hate to burst your bubble but we are not the monsters people would have us be. We do not burn off a breast, unless there is a reason to do so. We do bind them back in battle, I will admit to that."

"I don't mind, I am actually relieved to hear it."

"Why? Something else to fondle?" she asked sharply.

"No. Because it makes no sense to do such a thing that might cause a weakness in the warrior. As my teacher explained, it doesn't actually shift muscle from one area to another." He sighed, realizing the truth. No matter how hard he tried, he was not going to be able to dig out of this hole.

Cheiron would be extremely disappointed in him. The centaur had spent many a lesson trying to get him to think before he reacted. To make sure that what he wanted to say was wise. If he couldn't control himself, this partnership was not going to work out. "Can we start again?"

"That would be acceptable," she unbent just a bit. As much as she didn't want to, she had come to the same conclusion as he did. If they were to minimize the damage this task was asking, they had to work together. They had to get along better and not keep jumping at each other's throats for every little thing.

And at least he had the decency to admit when he was wrong. That one thing helped her estimation of his rise just the tiniest bit.

"How do you do, Lady of the Amazons. I am Heracles. Welcome to my home," he opened the gate.

"I am Lycia, Megara's cousin. I have heard much of your plight." She hinted at the reason for the visit as they walked towards a table under an olive tree.

"Yes, the girdle."

"I will not easily betray my queen, Heracles. To believe that I would be able to do so is to do me no honor," she said, her eyes hard as flints.

He got the feeling that many who'd opposed her found themselves at the mercy of that look and shivered. This was one woman who could give him an honest fight and he hoped that it wouldn't come down to it. There was a feeling that any fight between them would end in death – and he honestly wasn't sure which of them it would be.

"I do not ask it of you. But the princess desires it." Disgust plain in his voice, "I know that you don't want to hear this but that girl ought to be spanked."

"Herc," Meg's voice warned as she joined the conversation.

He waved a hand, "Eurystheus knows how I feel. Privately, the king agrees with me. Not that I just went up and told him, have some faith in me, Meg. But he invited me out on the one year anniversary of Queen Olena's death for a drink. It came out after a few beers. And it has nothing to do with her being a woman. I would say the same of any male who is in the same position."

"Do you have any idea what you are asking of me? Hippolyta's girdle is not some fancy belt we have been given by our patron god Ares. It is a symbol for us of our right to live free. To give ourselves freely to who we will, that it is our choice who gets into our beds."

The bitterness in her voice made Heracles feel even smaller. It was not a feeling that he liked and he was resolved to learn the truth about the Amazons. If they were willing to teach him, he was open to listening. Obviously, Lycia spoke from painful experience. "I didn't realize the significance of the belt. It only makes me wish that I could shake her for what she's doing. I apologize if that offends you," he was quick to add.

She waved it off for she could see where he was coming from – and appreciate her cousin's words even more. This girl that she didn't even know had quickly gone on her list of people that, if she ever met them, would get a good whipping. "Well, now you do." Lycia was silent, "that won't change things though. I will think on this and see if I can come up with a palatable solution to our mutual dilemma."

"It isn't your problem," Meg protested.

Her head shook, denying her words. "By bringing it to me, you made it mine."

"Is my garden dug yet?" His mother suddenly hollered, "And have you finished that fence? The sheep are going to escape if you don't get a move on it, boy."

"All right, mother." Before he could excuse himself and ask them to return later, Lycia stood and started to work with his shovel. She needed the physical exertion to help her clear her mind. There was a sense of the inevitable about what was to happen and she knew it.

If not Heracles, then someone else would try.

And this man may be less honorable about it. At least, Heracles was trying to work with them and find a way to preserve their honor. Another hero may try to destroy the Amazons themselves. While they'd often been called upon to defend themselves, the cost had always been high. Not only for them but for the villagers they protected.

Megara went to the waiting logs and picked one up, looking at him expectantly. With a shrug, he took up the axe and split the log evenly.

Working together, they completed the job in a few hours. "See, I told you. When you want the job done, get a woman to do it. We, unlike men, understand time limits." Meg smirked, ducking his playful swing at her head.

Lycia was silent, even as she watched their playful antics. Torn between what she knew was her duty and what she feared would result if she didn't help, she was ill at ease. Was there no other way out of this then to go through with it?

A spirit filled her, familiar and comfortable as ever.

The presence of the goddess, Artemis, had come upon her. Their protector was with her, as she had been with her in the past. Though she had not approved of the fact that Ares had taken such an interest in her, she could accept it for the goddess had also chosen her as her personal emissary in the Tribe.

While Artemis acknowledged Ares' prior claim upon them as he was the god of warriors as well as war, she was the one they turned to for issues dealing with pregnancy. Not to mention, she was the one who guided the young girls through their training until they took that last step into womanhood. Whereupon, they were turned over to Hera.

_Be at ease, my child_, the voice whispered. _We, the goddesses of Olympus, are behind you_.

"Lycia, would you care for something to drink?" Heracles' voice broke into her thoughts.

"Water, please," though she knew he was expecting her to say ale. "Meg, a word?"

"What is it?"

Lycia studied her cousin, the brilliance of a plan unfolding n her mind. The touch she felt was new, far colder than the warmth of Artemis. But it wasn't Hera, she knew that it wasn't her. Never having a mother, she'd often sought out the Queen of the gods' counsel, so she knew Hera's touch. The only goddess she'd never sought out – and never would, she hoped – was Aphrodite.

She had little use for the goddess of love and beauty.

This was someone far different for it was female but felt almost like Ares. Far more militarily disciplined, the only one it could be was Athena herself. As that goddess was unknown to her, she wasn't quite sure how to feel. Though still uneasy about helping in this task, she knew that the plan may work for it came from Athena's mind.

"How is your weaving?"

"Pretty good. Why?"

"I think I have an idea."

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Heracles sat, staring at the island before them. Above them, Nyx was drawing the night over the land, Selene rising to pierce the darkness. "I don't like this, Meg. It seems so…wrong."

"And stealing their rights from them is fine in your mind?" she asked, staring hard at him. "Have you changed your mind about that?"

"No," he objected. "You know that I don't want to do this. That I think it's cruel and wrong. I just don't see why we can't tell Queen Hippolyta what we're doing and trust her to help us out. It _**is**_ her girdle after all."

"And thus, she will be far more protective of it," Meg snapped, sounding exasperated. "Heracles, don't be a fool. You really think that she will be okay with this kind of action? She'll kill you quicker and with a great deal more satisfaction than Lycia would. I know you don't like all of this sneaking about but it is the only way to get it right."

"If they capture us?" he asked, wondering how she could be so calm. Perhaps it was the knowledge that she'd been there before. Therefore, she knew what to expect from these women. He wondered how she could be calm in light of her betraying them.

With the exception of Lycia, he'd never met any of them.

Meg faced him, the motion of the sea under the boat occasionally making her taller than him. "Then they capture us. They are not monsters, Heracles, just because they choose to live separate lives from men. As we would be guest/prisoners, the laws of hospitality apply. Without just cause, they cannot execute us. As long as we respect them and do no harm, we shall be perfectly safe with them."

They saw the lights go out in all the tents. "That's our cue." Grimly following Meg, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was about to go terribly wrong.

And it wouldn't be of his doing.

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Heracles rested his head on the doorframe, having just left the chamber of the king. Eurystheus had the girdle in hand, but he had not congratulated him upon the success of his mission. And that was fine by him for it was not happy thoughts that filled his mind and held him captive. He was utterly sickened by what he'd done. By what he'd had to do in order to allow Lycia her peace of mind and dignity, though she knew the truth.

This was a plan four months in the making. They had to be careful, no mistake could be made in the timing – nor in their choice of allies. For Meg had been guided by Lady Athena to create the girdle he would steal from them. The real trick was in making sure that Queen Hippolyta didn't recognize the trick until it was too late to raise the alarm.

Because in order to make it look real was the one part of the plan he hadn't known about.

They had to be caught by one of the Amazons and Lycia was the one who did it. In order to make it convincing, to make it appear as though it was a real theft, a challenge was issued. She had fought him, he'd only meant to injure her – but she had forced his hand and died. A wonderful fighter and a loyal follower of her Queen and a selfish girl's desires had caused her precious life to end.

He'd made it clear that he would not do something like that again.

King Eurystheus agreed after taking one look at his face and sent him on two tasks. The first was to kill the man-eating birds dwelling by Lake Stymphalos, something he looked forward to. It would be a hard battle and against a true monster. It had been far too long since he had been able to throw himself heedlessly into a brawl. This would be the perfect time for such a battle.

The second task was even trickier, one that required his mind a bit more than his strength.

A tree bearing the golden apples had been stolen. These apples were from the tree that Gaea had sent to Hera upon her wedding to Zeus. Somehow, someone had evaded the dragon guarding the entrance and taken them. For what reason, they did not know, they only knew that they had to be retrieved.

While he wished for more information, he was realistic enough to accept that Hermes didn't always know – or couldn't always tell him. What he knew for sure was that he needed to find the garden of the Hesperides. These beings knew how to find the apples for they had a connection to them. Upon meeting them, he had to talk them into letting him help them retrieve them.

As they were the daughter of Atlas and he the rumored son of Zeus, that would be no easy task. Bad blood existed between both gods for Atlas had sided with Kronus. Since he had lost, he was punished to hold up the world. Heracles wasn't sure how they escaped punishment – and Zeus' wandering eye – though he supposed that there were children of the Titans who hadn't been penalized by association.

Just because he couldn't think of any didn't mean they weren't out there.

Not to mention the great dragon Ladon. He wasn't quite sure he wanted to kill the dragon for doing his job. Still, if that was the only way to complete this task, he would do it. Of course, he would need to talk to Atlas, see if he could aid him. If he was willing to help him out, he'd appreciate it.

That was a big _if_, though.

It couldn't be easy to agree to help out the son of the god who'd condemned you to hold up the sky for eternity. Perhaps he'd do it for the chance to see his daughters, to spend some time with them once again.

The downside of all of this was that he might run the risk of angering Hera at last.

And she would find a task of sufficient danger to be rid of him at last.

It was true that she hadn't caused him too much trouble. But he wasn't entirely sure he appreciated being in her service just because he almost killed his music teacher – that choice had been his mother's – even though she hadn't been terribly harsh with him. Yes, the tasks were degrading and often very dangerous, but they weren't anything that he couldn't overcome.

In fact, they seemed designed to rid the world of the dangers that crawled over it, preying upon human kind. Dangers that normal people couldn't fight or take care of themselves. Monsters couldn't be defeated by just anyone. Unfortunately, theses deeds could only be done by someone of mixed blood. Thus, a demigod – or a demigoddess – had to take care of the problem. They were specifically gifted, even if they were condemned to have an unhappier life than mortals.

He wasn't sure if it was that she didn't actually care that it was him who was doing these tasks. Or if she cared more for the people who served her to care that she was using her husband's child to accomplish her goal of creating a safe world. Either way, it seemed to be working out for her and for humans, so who was he to object?

She may finally get angry with him if he killed her dragon. And her fury was no joking matter.

It was a foolish person who angered her. Still, risk or not, the woman whose blood he'd shed for a selfish girl decorated his hands. If this was the only way to purge his mind, he would do it. He couldn't stand himself, wasn't sure he could ever stand to look at himself again.

And the ache inside for the treachery he'd set in motion preyed on his mind.

No matter what it took, he would find a way to earn forgiveness. From her and the queen he'd so wronged. But he would never forgive himself.

Iolaus waited in the hall, falling into step with him easily. There were no words to be said. That was what he loved most about his cousin. Not only was he unfailingly loyal, he knew when he was needed and when his company was superfluous.

He wasn't sure if he could ever get through any of this without his best friend.

654321

Heracles walked along a path, lost in thoughts. Iolaus had taken the apples back to the king, leaving him alone for a while. It had been necessary for one of them to return and he wasn't going, he couldn't, not yet. But being alone with his regretful thoughts, that was something he didn't care for.

Perhaps he would join Jason on his trip. It sounded as though it would take a bit of time and would keep him occupied. What it all came down to was King Eurystheus and any task he may have left for him to do. If he had no task to assign him, he may be able to join him.

Though he was quite aware that his newly made friend would not be leaving for at least a year as he had to build a ship and gather a crew, Heracles knew that he had to make certain arrangements now if he was to join them. He had a prior commitment. Although, he was pretty sure that Hera would be Jason's patron goddess, so that might make things easier for him.

And, while he was seen as being her man, she was also seen as being set against him. Why, Heracles wasn't exactly sure. Even though he'd killed Ladon, she had not gotten revenge. Though he knew that some would say that with every one of the tasks set before him, he should be killed. It might be true except he received help or he found a way around it.

The sound of yelling caught his attention. Not pausing to think it over, he took off at a run and turned the corner. Before him, a gorgeous brunette in a deep blue robe stood, hands on her hips. Definitely of the feisty variety, she had that authority he rarely saw in this part of the country.

She was about his height, though he judged she'd only come up to his shoulders should they stand together. From this distance, he could not see what color her eyes were, but he thought it mattered not. For the first time since his first love, Heracles found that he was looking at the woman he could easily see himself spending the rest of his life with.

And he half wanted to curse Aphrodite for it because he didn't think this woman was available. He was _not_ going to get involved with another woman who was not free. Thinking of Iole, his heart twisted inside. Even now, the thought of the petite blond woman with her glorious brown eyes, hurt. She had been the first woman who'd shown no fear of him and his great strength.

In fact, she'd often teased him about it, saying that just because he had physical strength didn't mean that he was all that strong.

Meg didn't count for she'd never seen him in a romantic light. He was fully aware that they'd have killed each other had they tried. While she showed no fear of him as a man, she did have some reservations about his strength. It could have something to do with her past, the one she doesn't talk about, but he had a feeling that it had to do with him personally for she'd shown no such doubt over Iolaus.

In fact, he'd often wondered if she'd harbored any ideas about his friend. She'd never said anything but Iolaus had often been attracted to older women – and he'd been happier with them than those of his own age. Any relationship he'd ever had with a woman had only ended in unhappiness. To date, the only woman he'd been really happy with had been Nebula – a pirate captain who'd been ten years older than him and far from impressed with him.

At first, but Iolaus had a special charm that women found oddly endearing. It had to be the fact that, no matter what, he could always laugh. Nothing killed the tension of a situation better than laughter.

It had certainly helped Heracles heal.

The man before her looked apologetic but was not about to make amends. Sparing a glance to him, the demigod was not impressed with his watery looks. Of paler face than his companion, his hair was no less brown but while hers was straight, his was curly. His build was slender, with no sign of any hidden strength as he'd found in his old friend Odysseus.

Even Orpheus had more strength than this man.

He couldn't help but wonder how they'd managed to get this far without being molested for he saw no guards anywhere about. There was a small cart off to the side, but that was all he could see of supplies or even preparation for a journey.

"I don't understand why you're so upset, Deianeira. It was just a cow," the man said, trying to placate her. Though plainly apologetic, he had a smug expression on his face that said he really didn't care how she felt. It was obviously a case of he was sorry he'd been caught, not that he'd done the act in the first place.

"Just a cow?" she angrily repeated, her voice low and shaky with the feeling. "It was a sacrifice for Queen Hera, you idiot! How could you be so foolish as to lose the only offering we have for her in a card game?"

The guy scoffed, hands now resting on his hips. "Do you honestly think she's going to care about one missed sacrifice? It's not like she has to have every single sacrifice. Especially since you aren't even married? And you are no longer a child?"

"Theronice, it doesn't matter if she cares. _I_ care about making the proper oblations," she said, exasperated with her brother. Exasperated that he didn't seem to care all that much about what he'd done. "That should be enough for you. I've never asked much of you, why can't you just once – _just once_ – do something that I ask of you? It wasn't even that hard a task. I only asked you to watch the cow while I went to trade grain for some food. Was that really too much to ask of you?"

"What are you going to ask her for anyway? A husband? No man is fool enough to take on a disaster like you. You can't cook or keep your mouth quiet, your skills at the loom are a joke. All of your best skills are that which make you unpalatable to men," he retorted. "I know the gods are accustomed to creating miracles – but even the great Hera would have no luck with you."

Deianeira flushed red, obviously upset – and hurt. Deeply hurt by his words, "I would ask for nothing," now her voice was quiet. Reserved. But the anger was still there, revealed as she continued to speak. "What I want to do is show my respect and honor for her, not that I expect you to understand the difference. One can want to honor one expecting nothing in return, you swinish boor."

"Oh, please," he scoffed. "You know the priests always ask what one wants."

"If pressed, I would ask that our sister, Mnesimache, be spared the fate of marrying Eurytion. You know that centaur would ruin father's kingdom and Euryplus' inheritance. He almost beat up Hippolyte at her wedding to Azan and would have succeeded save for one of the guests saving her from him.

"And while you think I am hopeless with the feminine skills, it is only because I lack practice. Hard to get that kind of practice when travelling the seas with our uncle who adopted me for a time. Still, I was learning how to do such things whenever I visited Cousins Penelope and Helen. And considering that they're seven years younger than I and far better at it than me, well, that was rather embarrassing. Their mothers insisted upon hearing that I had no experience.

"Besides, which one of us is responsible for keeping us fed and safe on this journey?" she asked, a scathing look on her face. "You? What a joke. I'd be better off on my own."

"Excuse me," Heracles interrupted, not wishing to listen in more to an argument that was really none of his business. It didn't help that he was really starting to like this girl's spunk. "But perhaps you could just barter for a new cow."

She looked at him as if he'd grown six heads, two of which were female. "Are you mad? Do you not know where you are and what festival is being celebrated?"

Her eyes were the stunning blue of Alcmene's. "I must admit my ignorance, ma'am."

"You are in Argos, one of Great Hera's cities in time for the _Heraea_," she replied, taking another look at him. There was something about him, about his eyes, a certain hint of something that reminded her of someone. Now, who was it?

Upon hearing his location, he winced. Of all places to be, why did it have to be here? He wished he could blame Eurystheus for this but he could not. It was his own choice to walk left instead of right when he'd come to that crossroads. How was he to know that he'd walk towards one of Hera's favorite cities?

"Perhaps you could get another animal to sacrifice, a cuckoo might do," he suggested.

"Are you really that dense? No one sacrifices a cuckoo to Hera. That's the bird of her courtship," she scoffed.

He held up his hands in surrender, she had a point. Luckily, he had long since accepted that women had the ability to point things out to him that he missed. And he'd learned to accept it with grace, even if he didn't always like it. Though as he walked past them both, he offered his unsolicited opinion, "I just think that it would be better to find an alternative if you want to sacrifice something to Great Hera than squabble in the road. It does you no good to fight like this instead of trying to find a solution to your dilemma."

Watching him go, she had to admit that he had a point – a very good point. And being an honest woman, she could admit to it. "Wait!" she stopped and waited until he had turned to face them. Again, she was struck with a sense of knowing him from somewhere. "Thank you for your advice. I'll take that into consideration. Who are you?"

"I'm no one of any consequence at the moment, ma'am," he said.

"Deianeira," she introduced herself, "And this is my brother, Theronice of Olenus."

"It is an honor to meet you," he bowed to the siblings. "I must be on my way. Perhaps, one day, I shall meet you again."

"Our father's table will always welcome you," Theronice said. His eyes darted between his sister and the strange man. It had not escaped his attention that the stranger seemed to like Deianeira. Well, he had not seemed angered by her lack of respect for him. Nor did he ignore the implication that he would introduce himself at a later date.

Perhaps, just perhaps, they may find a husband for the girl after all.

Heracles dragged his eyes away from her and contemplated the man. It was clear what he was thinking by the look in his eyes. Since he couldn't always judge where he would be in the world, it was not unheard of that he might pass through their town at some later date. "Perhaps," he said, not agreeing nor disagreeing with the man. With a final look at her, he walked off.

Unaware of her brother's plans for her, nor of the stranger's interest in her, Deianeira was lost in thought. To save her sisters from continual harassment, she would do what she must. It was why she had intended to sacrifice her pet cow that day. She'd raised it from infancy, though she'd had to leave it behind in Hippolyte's care when she went off with her uncle.

Now, she would offer the only thing she truly possessed – herself.

654321

Jason's black eyes shined in greeting as Heracles walked into the shipbuilder's work place. In front of him, the _Argo_'s dark brown hull glistened in the early morning light. "So, you are going to join me," his jolly voice somewhat died as he took a look at him. A really good look, he didn't think he'd ever seen that look on his face before.

Except for the whole Iole affair. "Unhappy love affair?"

"Never really started, so I can't say that it was unhappy, Jason."

"Ah, but there is something there," he said.

"Have you ever heard of Olenus?"

Pondering the name a few times, he ran a hand through his shoulder length brown hair. It was just about time for a trim he knew. If he didn't cut it soon, it'd be down to his waist by the time they reached Colchis. "The kingdom ruled by Dexamenus? It's not a bad place, though they haven't been blessed with good luck lately. Every so often, a centaur named Eurytion comes along and demands a sacrifice or a bride price."

"Don't they have a patron god to help them?"

"I heard that they once made oblations to one of the minor deities but that particular god fell out of favor with Lord Zeus."

"Strange," he murmured. "Was it because he refused him a daughter?"

Shaking his head, he laughed. "One would think so but it actually had to do with the fact that this god tried to court Hera. I gather from the tales I've heard that he'd seen her after she emerged from her yearly purification and restoration bath."

Hearing the sound of adoration – and slight envy in his friend's voice, Heracles held back his mocking comment. It wasn't so much about Hera for he was fully aware that she was considered among the most beautiful of the goddesses.

And he certainly wasn't going to mock the man for his desire. How could he when he'd often been gripped by lust's powerful hand? All he had to do was remember a night when he'd mated with fifty women, though he actually hadn't gotten them all pregnant. Even he wasn't that prolific.

No, he was not going to hurt his feelings by bringing up that any person who tried to court her was truly insane. Hera was no Aphrodite when it came to love. She took her vows seriously. Someone would have to be truly stupid to go after Hera – especially when the mighty Zeus was her husband.

Instead, he said, "That doesn't sound wise. Did he not learn from Ixion's mistake?"

"I guess he figured that Ixion was mortal, while he was a god. Thus, the offense wouldn't be there for he was of equal rank as them."

"There is no equal rank between a minor god and Lord Zeus," a new voice said.

"Hylas!" Jason greeted his youngest cousin warmly. After embracing the youth, "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be in class?"

"And miss the chance of meeting Heracles himself? You have to be kidding me," he replied. His brown eyes studied the man curiously. Tossing his head, a few strands of blond hair escaped the pony tail he'd taken to wearing – much to his father's disgust.

It wasn't the long hair that bothered him. It was the fact that he bound it back. _If you're going to have long hair, don't bother to disguise it unless you are about to go into battle_, he could almost hear the lecture. "Besides, I was interested in seeing how the ship was coming along. You never said I couldn't take an interest in it."

"Yeah, because you have always had an interest in my trip," Jason was quick with a dry retort. While he was fond of his cousin, he was also wary of him. The boy had a tendency to encourage fights over him – both genders seemed to think he was amazing. Personally, Jason preferred Orpheus' more healthy, sun kissed looks to the affected look of Hylas.

"He may not but I do," a female said. "You still looking for a crew?"

The men looked at the girl standing there. While no towering beauty, she had a rough prettiness to her that caught the eye. Of course, there was also a sense about the auburn haired woman with grey eyes that said she could kick your butt and lord it over you easily.

Then again, it may have been the noticeable comfort of her body to the presence of the short sword resting at her side and the bow slung casually over her shoulder that said that. Either way, she obviously knew how to use both. Her body was browned through years in the sun and toned from hard work and exertion.

But Heracles knew from looking at her that she was no Amazon. He wondered why not. She evidently had a love for the outdoors and was definitely independent minded. In one regards, she reminded him of Megara. Though there were clear differences between them. While Meg had always tried to honor those she was around, this woman screamed her independence to all.

And a supreme indifference to anyone's attitude about her. It was obvious that she wasn't there to be liked or be courted by anyone.

"May be," he was slow to admit, not sure he liked the way she was dismissing them all.

"Name's Atalanta," her introduction was as casual as her pose. "Meleager said to tell you that he'll be by in a few, had to pick up another buddy of his. Though I suppose I should say two, Castor and Pollux, but since they act as one being, I say they are one."

"I'd be offended, Ats, but I know you could kick my butt easily," Castor said.

"I could," she agreed, with absolutely no arrogance.

It was true because of how she'd been raised. First, nurtured by a bear and then by hunters, she'd spent much of her youth dedicated to the ways of Artemis. There were only a handful of people who could defeat her, all of them of divine blood. She nodded at both dark haired men, their twin grey eyes twinkling at her.

And smiled only slightly at Meleager who stood off to the side. Though he'd been her friend first, the blond haired man made her uneasy. There was something in his brown eyes every time he looked at her that she didn't like.

"That'll only happen if I don't help him out," Pollux retorted.

"And doesn't that say something about his skills that he can't take on one girl by himself?" she half-mocked for she rather liked the twins. They weren't half bad once you got past the ego Pollux.

"Just drop it, Pol," he advised with a full bodied laugh. "It never does to fight with her – since she did nearly kick your butt."

"That was only once," he said, feeling slightly betrayed by his brother. Even as he acknowledged the truth, he didn't like hearing it any more than he liked admitting it.

Castor just stared at him, "So?"

Heracles held up his hands when Jason gave him a look of _get this woman out of here_. "Don't look at me, one of my greatest allies is female," he quietly said, only for the captain to hear. "I'd accept her – she will be less vulnerable to threats we don't see than you'd think."

"Are you kidding me?" Jason hissed. "She's a woman."

Heracles looked at him. "That's not going to convince me that anything is wrong with taking her. So, she's female. It's not going to be a problem with me. You're talking to a man who spent some time with the Amazons, learned a bit from them. If you want my advice, I would say bring her along. She really doesn't look like she's going to get in our way. If anything, I would say we're the ones who will slow her down."

"You've got that right. Heracles, right?" she guessed looking him over. He didn't seem too bad, though there was something about him that seemed quite different from the other children of Zeus she had met. And she couldn't figure out why that would be.

"Yeah," he agreed, holding out his hand to clasp her arm in a warrior's greeting. "Atalanta, I'm honored to meet you."

She studied him for a moment before accepting his outstretched hand. "I think I'm going to like having you around."

"That's probably good because sea voyages take a while," Jason said, deciding to side with Heracles on this. If anyone had a problem with it, he would deal with it then. Or allow her to handle it since she was clearly a woman who knew what she was doing.

So he hoped.

654321

Twenty years had passed since he had set foot on King Eurystheus' land for more than a weeklong visit. If it weren't for the fact that his brother was being named regent and getting married, he would've stayed far away. The one thing he didn't want to see was that brat – and yes, he could admit to holding onto a grudge.

But he'd been assured that she was staying away with her new guardians.

After giving his daughter, Admeta, a trial run of ruling, Eurystheus had decided against early retirement. It wasn't that she was inept, she just didn't have the head or ability to balance all that needed doing. And she did focus a lot on herself and her friends.

So, he had finally done what he should've in the first place. He'd sent Admeta to be fostered among the Amazons earlier that year. He was hoping that the time with these women would cure her self-indulgences.

Until then, Iphicles would rule at his side, which was a good thing for the country. Though still able, an old injury attained ten years ago had crippled Eurystheus' ability to make all the trips he needed to make in order to make sure everything was well in the kingdom. And Iphicles understood the common man and had a steady hand on the remarkable red cattle Heracles had once gotten from the monster Geryon.

Plus, he had helped him tame the horses of Diomedes, nasty flesh eaters that they once were. Now, they were part of the cavalry that helped protect the country from invaders. Not that there were that many since they were a part of the Delian league, but the risk was still out there.

"How are you going to tell your mother?" Iolaus asked, referring to the lack of a certain someone.

Heracles sighed, "I guess I'll be as honest as possible."

"Do you want me there?"

"You'll have enough to deal with when you see your family," he refused gently. He stared out over the sea, hazel eyes on the coming shoreline. The walled city looked the same, yet there were signs of aging. One of the sections could do with some repair work, while the watering and feeding places needed a new location.

Iolaus shrugged it off, "but they don't expect much from me. All they request is that I stay out of jail, which strikes me as funny as I thought I'd come much farther in their estimation of me. Anyway, if I never marry, they'll be more than content. Your mother, on the other hand, does."

A bitter laugh escaped him. "How do I tell her my wife and children were killed by a boar I was unable to protect them from?"

"Herc, you were away." He tried to soothe him but privately acknowledged that Herc had always been aggressive in holding onto his guilt. The blond hoped his mother would be able to help but the grief was so deep, he wasn't sure anything would.

This was similar to how he'd felt about Lycia, only they hadn't been lovers.

"On a mission I should never have undertaken, Iolaus!" he yelled. Hazel eyes wild with grief and anger, his sandy hair was shorn with a knife unevenly. "Deianeira asked me not to go. She begged and pleaded with me but I didn't listen. If I had, she would be with me today, meeting my family."

"You know why you did it," Iolaus gently pointed out, knowing it was useless. "It was necessary for you to go before more innocents were hurt. The bull attacked everything and everyone around it. King Minos needed your help because he disobeyed Poseidon and didn't sacrifice the bull until it was too late. What else could you do but respond to the call for help? Hermes told you that there was no other choice if lives were to be saved."

"And I left my pregnant wife vulnerable because I needed you with me!"

"What could I have done to it on my own?" Iolaus asked, shaking his head. "The boar wasn't like any other animal I've ever hunted. There was no way I could have taken it down."

Conversation ended when they arrived. "I'll see you, Iolaus."

Resting his head in his mother's lap, he told her what had happened in as few words as possible. As if the brevity of the tale would keep the pain at bay. "I deserve no forgiveness for what I have done, mother. I loved her, but loved helping people more. How could I have been so thoughtless? Though I hunted and killed it for what it had done, I lost all that mattered to me."

"You did all you could," she soothed, her wrinkled hand running through his hair. Having lost her beloved Amphitryon years ago, she knew that no words could ease that suffering. It took time but the ache did ease, not that it felt that way when one was going through that very trying time of loss and suffering. And one still felt the desire to find the words to say to offer comfort and counsel but none could be found that ever did.

"I should've been there," he protested.

"And you were not because others needed you, as Deianeira knew you needed to go. Did you not see her for yourself?"

Slowly his head nodded, "I had to bind Cerberus to get in to see her. Hades almost didn't let me, though I had his precious hound. But Persephone had compassion on me and convinced him to let me go. I know Demeter will never agree but Persephone being with Hades is the best thing that could have happened to mortals. She humanizes him and brings compassion to the Underworld."

"Then you did what you could, was she not happy?"

"She was," he whispered, choking on the tears that wanted to fall. Tears he didn't want to shed for he felt as though he had nothing left to give. "So happy and as beautiful as the day I meet her, though I think her always beautiful."

Alcmene was silent; her hands never ceased their ministrations. _Hera_, she thought pleadingly, _have mercy on this boy of yours. Help him heal; he needs to feel a mother's love and mine isn't enough_.


	5. Apollo asks and Rhea Counsels Zeus

Hera watched them from her room, sighing in shared sorrow for her son's loss. A gentle breeze blew into the room, caressing the man as softly and lovingly as possible. What she really wanted to do was to hold him as Alcmene did. After a while, she sat at her loom, wondering what more she could do.

As an immortal goddess, comforting humans had always been difficult for her to do for she could not understand their grief. Except for the hurts caused by Zeus – and her hidden sorrow over the loss of Philon – her grief passed after a time. Mortal grief was different from the immortal gods for they lived in the moment and so, loss was amplified for them. Lacking the eternity that the gods had, they grieved until the end. Since all grief was different, it was always hard to comfort mortals.

And while Heracles was a half-god, he had been raised a mortal. That one difference opened up a gulf between them that was not easy to cross over.

There was a knock at her door and the sound of someone clearing their throat as the door opened, she turned, surprised at the sound. "Apollo? What are you doing here?"

The god of music and healing took that as permission to enter the room and did so. Hera had been scarce since her request to Zeus and rarely saw anyone save for at dinner time. So, he was thankful that she allowed this interview for he was troubled. Closing the door, he joined her on the bench, studying her intently, trying to figure out the best way to address what was on his mind.

"What the question should be, my queen, is why have I not come to you before now?" his question was gentle, testing the waters of how far she'd let him go.

Her eyes narrowed, flashing grey, "Why should you have come before?"

"I know the truth about Heracles – and you," he cut off her tirade before it started.

"What do you want?" Though her hands shook, nothing else betrayed her fear at this blunt statement. Hera had never expected her secret to remain as long as it had. And somehow, though she'd always felt Zeus would figure it out first, she still hadn't thought to prepare herself for the revelation.

"Front row seats for the explosion when Zeus finds out he's been cuckolded by his docile and ever so accommodating wife?" she acidly asked.

"You know me better than that, Hera. I want to know why," he chided her.

"Why? Because he respected me, he loved me without fear or reservation. There was no magic behind his feelings for me; nor mine for him. Philon gave himself to me completely," she whispered, lost in thoughts of a man with dark hair and kind, brown eyes who looked at her as though she was the world.

Apollo watched as her face colored faintly, like a rose as she remembered this man – this mortal lover with whom she'd found love and did what no one thought possible. The beauty of Hera was more incandescent than Aphrodite's more obvious beauty. Subtle and transcendent, he thought he could see why Zeus kept coming back to her.

She never looked the same for long, her beauty changing and deepening.

"He cared not a whit for others, it was me he wanted. Only me," she giggled on the words. "There was reverence, yet an irreverent quality about him. Our passion was both savage and calm. I had never been so loved.

"Zeus sees, wants, takes with little regard to the destruction he leaves behind. He cares only for his own pleasure, though Kronus knows he loves me in his own, possessive way. There's no way I can deny his affection for me.

"But this man – this mortal man – gave freely, without reserve, and I loved him all the more for it. He put my passion first. He didn't even care that I kept my past a secret from him. He…died protecting me, in my arms."

"How did?" he couldn't finish the question.

She rested her hand on his thigh, finishing his question for him. "Did Heracles come to live in Alcmene's home? I knew her well for she is one of my most faithful followers, my own high priestess until she met Amphitryon. Theirs was a union I blessed for I loved them both dearly. She owed me a favor for protecting her husband in times of war and agreed to protect my son. I felt no fear in asking this of her for I could trust her in a way that I could never trust Io. And it was no surprise to me that she caught Zeus' eye. You have seen her, she is lovely."

"The boy could pass as his. But how would he explain the presence of both boys? Artemis and myself aside, no other true twins have been born, that I know of. Castor and Pollux, Clytemnestra and Helen weren't hatched from the same egg, so I hardly think they count." He made no move to remove her hand. It was non-threatening and meant comfort, not seduction.

Still, there was an illicit thrill to being touched so intimately by the woman who'd only ever touched two men. And only one was known to the public.

"The timing had to be precise for Heracles would need to born of me first. Yet, she was pregnant first. I couldn't risk her life to coincide with the timing of my birthing. And she had to appear to give birth to him. Hard though it is, one can have a baby without Eileithyria being there. I had to escape before she came, for the sake of appearances.

"And the birth of Iphicles was hard for her, even after she arrived for she has very small hips. Iphicles is her husband's child and she would never have another child after him. I mourned greatly for I had great hopes for a daughter from her."

She sighed, "Alas that it was not to be. And Zeus only sees that which he wants to see."

"So what he didn't know," he followed her line of reasoning, "Wouldn't hurt either you or your son."

"Yes. Why do you care?" Hera seemed to come back to herself and withdrew her hand, tilting her head curiously.

"One of the Pythias asked me of it in meditation," he replied, somewhat saddened by the loss of the touch. He had a feeling that he'd been blessed by her somehow. "I did not know the best way to reply and told her to say nothing for fear of my wrath."

"Apollo, you never cease to amaze me," she shook her head. "Why?"

He gave the question serious thought, "it was none of my business."

"And it is now?" she archly asked.

Apollo laughed, "Not really. But I could no longer restrain my curiosity."

"Hera, a word."

"Yes, my king." Putting aside her work, she rose and went to him.

Apollo watched them go, troubled. How much had the King of the gods heard?

Hera followed Zeus out of the room, worried about what the King of the gods had heard of their conversation. Or what he had seen. Lately, he'd been more than a little possessive of her, as though he was afraid she'd disappear into thin air. His behavior had been growing…troublesome. If he had seen her hand on Apollo's thigh, who knew what he'd think of the situation between them?

But she would never let all her thoughts and feelings show on her face.

She had some pride, after all. "What does my lord husband wish to speak to me about?"

"What did Apollo have to say to you that he could not speak to me about as well?"

"My lord Zeus?" she questioned.

His dark eyes narrowed, recognizing her evasive tone. "Do not play false with me, wife. I heard enough to know that there is something the Pythias saw that concerned you and a son. Which of our sons is it? What has occurred? And why did he not speak to the both of us about it?"

While she was relieved that he hadn't caught the reference to Heracles, she wondered about what to say. There really wasn't much she could say that wouldn't come out and offend him. His mood was especially tetchy. "Lord Apollo felt it best to share his concerns with me first."

"Why?" he ground out through taut lips.

"It involves Ares and you have never been level-headed when it comes to him," she coolly said.

"Was it necessary for you to be alone with him?"

Her eyes flashed before she reigned in her temper. "I see no reason to be dismayed that I was, Zeus. The talk needed to be private, as such we needed to have the door shut. I fail to see where you are going with this."

"You should not be shut up with anybody! If anyone else had come upon you they might have thought that something was going on! Especially when you inappropriately touched him!" he roared. Getting right into her face, he grasped her arms and forced her to stay in place when she made a move to step away. He could see the flecks in her eyes that spoke of her anger – and dawning fear of him.

But he was angry at the casual way she behaved towards Apollo and disregarded what he saw. "You are my wife and the Queen of the gods. Such intimacies invite only trouble."

Glaring at him, she spat out angrily, "Why are you so worried about appearances? It's not as if anything was going to occur between us. Have you not pointed out to me, many times, that just because you are alone with a female it does not mean that you are up to something?"

"Don't throw my words back into my face."

"Why not?" she challenged him as she broke free from his grip. "You never listen to anything I say, may be your own words will mean something to you."

"If you ever said anything that mattered, I might."

"If nothing I say is ever listened to, then I suppose I can tell you exactly what I think of you. You won't hear me anyway," she retorted, beyond caring how her words may sound. It had been a long time since anger had flowed through her veins in such a fashion.

And she'd forgotten how empowering it could be.

"You are nothing more than a selfish, tyrannical brute who feels powerful only when he dominates and brutalizes another. You know nothing of controlling yourself or respecting any person but yourself and that is why you can never regain me. You have only ever cared about one person – you. I will never come back to you like some naive, blind fool.

"I need more than you are man or god enough to provide. Not that I expect you to be able to understand the difference," she snapped. With that, she headed for the door.

His hand rested on her shoulder and he whirled her back around to face him. Holding her head in the palm of his hand, he held her face level with his own. "I would think carefully before you speak, wife, for I can make your life more difficult than it already is."

"You already do that by merely existing," she snapped. Beyond caring about how he would react – and what he may do.

He went deathly still. All of his doubts, his fears, and his uncertainty about his place in her life hit him. Her words left him open, raw to the idea that she really would leave for good this time. That body of hers was constantly in his bed, but her mind was never fully open to his own. He didn't know anymore were he stood with her. His face paled, making his fiery eyes more frightening to behold.

The menace flared to life, focused solely on her in a way it never had before.

She had never seen such a look of such unleashed rage on her husband's face before. No, that wasn't true. The last time she'd seen that look was in battle against the Titans. His ferocity was something to behold – but never in a good way. When the harsh blow came, it stunned her, whipped her head about. Shocked eyes met his equally startled ones but his were veiled quickly while hers filled with slight tears.

Neither god could believe that he had actually struck her.

"Guard your tongue, woman. I have little use for a fish wife." His words were uttered low and he stalked off, leaving her standing in shock, a hand rising to rest on her bruised cheek and betrayal in the eyes she kept lowered. He was shaking with reaction, unable to believe what he'd done. He'd never – no matter the provocation – hit her. It had always been a matter of pride to him that he refrained from being so brutal to her.

What was he becoming?

Apollo ran out of the room, hearing the sounds of the argument. "Oh, Hera," he shook his head, having caught the tail end of their confrontation. "I'm sorry."

Having turned at the sound of his voice, she waved off his apology. Wrapping her arms about herself, she turned back to face the path Zeus had stalked down. The personal hug did no good to ward off her constant shaking. "It wasn't your fault. I shouldn't have provoked him like I did."

"Hera," he started but she interrupted him. It made him feel ill at ease to have her make excuses for what had happened between Zeus and her.

"Perhaps you should keep your distance from now on. Zeus seems to be suspicious that something is occurring between us. More than our attempt at rebellion, that is," her lips quirked weakly, as if trying to smile at the regrettable joke.

Apollo knew what she was referring to. In the days after the battles had finished, Zeus had become something of a tyrant. They hadn't been the only ones chaffing under his rule and tried to overthrow him. And they would have succeeded had they not started to fight over who should be in charge.

Thus, when he escaped, they were punished. Hera had borne most of the brunt from Zeus' anger than the rest of the gods. His bitterness at her betrayal had known no bounds and made it hard for him to forgive her.

But forgive her he had.

"And something isn't?" he softly asked, coming up behind her.

Glancing back at him, an eyebrow raised in question. "Apollo, he thinks that we are lovers. Or soon will be."

Wide, blue eyes nearly popped out of his skull. "What?" he gasped, though in all honesty the idea had crossed his mind a few times.

These were not new thoughts to him, especially with his new awareness of her. And he was pretty sure that he wasn't the only god to contemplate such a thought. He wouldn't have been surprised if some of the goddesses had thought about it as well. Hera was an unconsciously devastatingly attractive woman. A hand rose and moved the one on her cheek to the side, lightly stroking it and aiding in the healing – but not completely. He knew that she did not want that, though he did not know why she wouldn't want it to disappear completely.

"Why in the name of the Titans would he assume such a thing?"

"He's Zeus and sometimes he can behave like an ass," she sighed, rubbing her arms to ward off the chill she felt.

"Hera," Apollo stopped for a moment before saying what he honestly thought. "You should leave him. Permanently this time," his hand stopped and remained in place.

She whispered, so softly he almost missed it, "I can't."

"Why not?" he asked her, letting her move his hand away because he saw the shadow in her eyes when she glanced over her shoulder. She was right – Zeus could come back at any moment. And if that was his reaction to a mere talk, who knew what he'd do if he saw them touching?

"Good or bad, right or wrong, Zeus is still my husband and I owe him my allegiance." She studied his expression and knew of his genuine concern for her. "It's not that I don't appreciate your concern, and I won't insult your intelligence by saying that I haven't thought about it. I have – but he is my husband. Until he finds out what I've done, that is."

"He doesn't deserve this steadfast loyalty," Apollo commented harshly. Taking a chance, he wrapped his arms around the cold woman. Ignoring her stiff posture, he held on, warming her up. All the same, he kept his mind aware to what was going on around them. Zeus could not find them like this, innocent though the embrace was.

"He is my King," she objected. "It is his right to demand loyalty from me."

"Not in this manner. Yes, I agree that you do owe him your loyalty as he is the King of the gods – we all do. But not as husband if this is how he treats you."

"How much you know and yet, how little you understand. Tell me, is Artemis truly set on this course?" she changed the subject deftly. As far as she was concerned, it was. Centuries ago, she had made her choice, when she chose Zeus as her husband. Her commitment to him had been renewed when she vowed her allegiance, to never again try to overthrow him, and she was going to stand by him no matter what happened.

Dismayed that she would not listen to him, Apollo nevertheless let it be. This was Hera's decision and choice. And though he wished it were otherwise, he could not change her mind. He could not force her to leave Zeus anymore than he could force those who petitioned his aid into following his counsel if it displeased them. "I believe so."

"Even if it means that the Golden Hind might never enjoy the freedom she has always known?" Feeling warmer inside for one of his gifts was the ability to warm the soul, she moved away from him. With the intuition a woman is known for, she could sense that Apollo was feeling more for her than he should. Than even he perhaps knew he felt, and while a part of her felt pride that she could attract such a handsome and desirable young god, she was not the kind to take advantage of this kind of situation.

"Yes," he said, letting her go though he mourned the loss of her supple body near his own. The longing for more from her overcame him and he indulged for a moment before letting it pass away. This was not the time – nor was she the kind of woman to indulge in casual relations – even her affair had the air of permanency to it.

It was in her character to be faithful and loyal to those she pinned her affections upon. It was not so with the rest of the gods. Only Hestia matched her in willing devotion to her followers. After all they had been through, he wondered how they could remain this way – especially when Hera herself had often been vindictive against mortals. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that they had reconnected through living as mortals for a time, though that didn't explain Demeter's indifference.

"Why?" she asked.

"Artemis believes that the girl has truly changed. Or, at the very least, truly repents of her actions. This is a challenge that will reveal her true character. The Hind will be safer under the Amazons protection for they understand her plight better than any other."

Hera nodded. "They are often in danger of extinction, though they do try to harm none with their lives. I'm off to tend my garden."

"Your face?" he asked, though the bruise was very faint now. Their individual powers made for a faster healing and his touch had aided her recovery. Only if you knew she'd been hit would you see the signs.

"Will finish healing soon," she replied, a small smile gracing her face. "Thank you for your concern. Besides, this is far from the first time that I've had such injuries, though it is the first time that it has occurred in times of peace. By nightfall, it will be merely a memory."

"And shall we see you at dinner?"

"My lord husband has made it clear that I am to be at all evening functions," she spoke sardonically. It was not an untruth for once she had reappeared in the Great Hall all those years ago, he wanted her always there for him. "I do not think it wise to push him again so soon. Besides, there is a problem in Troy – it is up to us to see that it doesn't get to out of hand." Without another word, she disappeared down another path in the palace.

"Playing with fire when you fool around with her, brother," a voice spoke into the silence, both understanding and harsh. At one time, she had borne the brunt of Hera's anger. But, over the centuries, they'd come to some kind of peace with each other. Part of Artemis wondered if the reason they got along better now was the fact that she understood the mindset of warrior women better than Hera did.

Another part wondered if Hera had truly accepted her as a daughter and chose to love her regardless of the truth.

Turning, he greeted a pink cheeked Artemis. Obviously, she'd just finished a hunt for her hair was went from a bath and the robe she wore clung to the places that had not fully dried before she dressed. After the Actaeon affair, she rarely made sure she was fully dry before dressing. Her bow was rather incongruous to the look though. "I doubt it."

"That was Hera, right?" she asked, her eyebrow arched. "You remember her? Zeus' wife."

"He treats her like a possession."

"Thus, you are playing with fire and will only get burned in the end."

"Probably, but someone has to protect her. Ares is too much like our father. Hephaestus, Demeter, and Athena cannot be there for her for they have their work and do not truly see the need. Athena especially for she is Zeus' favorite child and has a tendency to wear blinders when it comes to his actions. Hermes, as much as I love the boy, is too flighty for something like this.

"Hestia has been helping Hades with his workload, while Persephone is away helping her own mother. And Demeter has thoroughly taken her presence away from Olympus, rarely putting in appearances. Who else is there?"

Artemis thought his words made painful sense – Apollo had an annoying habit of doing so. Even without his seers cluing him in, he knew things that he really had no right to know. It made one uncomfortable to be around him. Even she, his twin, did not like to spend too much time with him for he saw too much and knew too many uncomfortable truths.

"Have you considered asking Rhea? I would imagine that she would have a great deal to say about this because of her own experience with Kronus. In some respects, this parallels it."

"I had not thought of her. Where is she?"

"About this time of year, the spring over Thermopolis," she reminded him, dropping her bow to the side. "But you should take care if you go to visit her for Father Zeus visits often."

Thermopolis:

Rhea listened to Apollo, nodding occasionally to let him know that she was paying attention to his tale.

This story troubled her for it was something she had been expecting for some time. The only thing that startled her was the fact that the marriage had deteriorated to this extent. In her heart, she'd always had reservations that the union of Hera and Zeus would work in the long run. Though she was surprised that it had lasted as long as it had.

Strong willed, independent, and surprisingly set in their ways considering their upbringing, neither god had any qualms about twisting the other about in any attempt to dominate each other. While Zeus' predilection for doing so was not a surprise, Hera doing so was rather surprising. Having grown up inside of Kronus' belly, she was not sure where the goddess had learned to be so dominating and independent minded.

There was some pride in her that Hera was this way but she was mostly sorrowful for it caused this state of affairs.

"I will talk to my son, though I cannot guarantee that I will have any success with him. He has too much of his father in him to listen to good counsel. If only he would listen more to Métis' counsel. She is in his head for a reason."

"Apollo, what are you doing here?"

"Lower your voice, Zeus," Rhea scolded him. "This is my domain, not yours – and you know it."

He had the grace to look abashed. "I apologize, mother." There were only two people in his life that he'd be so humbled by. His mother – and grandmother, Gaea – for they alone had the full power to bring him to his knees without aid as his other enemies would need. Hera came close to joining their ranks, especially now that she kept him in a state of confused emotions that went up and down constantly.

"As for why he is here, cannot a grandson visit his grandmother? You know as well as I do that I don't get many visitors and I tend to be lonely at times. Visit me again soon, Apollo."

Bowing, he smiled charmingly. "I shall be certain to do so. Lord Zeus, I wish you a pleasant visit."

"What did he want?"

"You hit your wife," she stated bluntly.

"I cannot believe he told you that," the anger in his voice was apparent – as was his shame.

"And I cannot believe that you found it necessary to brutalize her for her words. Why ever did you retrieve her if you only end up hurting her?"

"I'll tell you what I told her, that she is my wife. I wanted her to come home," he stubbornly maintained. "Her place is beside me."

"Hera is not a possession, Zeus, and should not be treated as such. She has a right to live as she pleases, where she pleases. It is not up to you to tell her how she should exist. Or where in life her main center should be. As I had to fight for my independence from Kronus, for the right for my children to live free of his monstrous appetite and ambition in a manner most consider ghastly, I had the right to live. I had the right to secure the future for my children.

"You don't want her to get to that point with you. To want her freedom from your tyranny so much, she is willing to fight against you. To fight – and this time – to win," she added warningly.

It hurt to say the words, to realize that Zeus was behaving towards Hera in much the same manner that Kronus had her. While Kronus had been faithful to her, he'd hurt her heart when he'd harmed their children, when he stole them from her. And so, it had to be done. Zeus' fear of being overthrown was the same as Kronus' had been. If bringing up the possibility was the only way to get through to him, then she would revisit her past to do it.

"Her presence was desired on Olympus." But this time, his voice was less defiant, less arrogant. A shiver of fear raced down his spine. Though the words spoken were not prophecy, they had a familiar ring to them. He knew that of all the gods, if one was to overthrow him, it would really be Hera.

It had been her drugging him that had almost led to his losing the throne. From her hand, he had accepted the drink that had caused him to fall into a deep slumber. He woke up, chained to the bed and unable to move. If Briesis hadn't released him, who knows what would have become of him?

And she knew him better than he knew himself, she knew he trusted her. She had loved him despite his flaws and failings. At least, he hoped she did, though there was a nagging doubt for it had been some time since she'd said it.

"That may be true but you have no business raising a hand in violence against her," she replied.

"What she said hurt me," he countered, knowing it for the weak argument it was. Had anyone used it in his presence, he would've laughed right in their face and dismissed them. It wasn't much of a reason. Even now, he could hardly believe that his hand had struck her across the face.

Such violence was ugly and something he frowned upon when mortals did so. That he had done it himself, he could not condone his actions. He was not proud of causing Hera such pain for this was different from the pain he caused when he went to others for pleasure. This was a dominating and brutal way of reminding her who was in charge. When he'd overthrown Kronus – and had almost been overthrown himself – he made a promise that he would avoid such behaviors in the future.

It was why he'd sought his mother and her guidance. He needed to know how to make it right with Hera.

"You are not a child, Zeus. To act as if you are is inappropriate for one in your position. These are lessons you learned in your youth. They are one of the reasons you were chosen to be the King of the gods," she reminded him sternly. "While you drew the straw to rule the heavens, it was your exemplary behavior that swayed the other gods into making you their leader."

Sitting down on a moss covered stone, he stared at his mother. This woman who resembled his Hera in so many ways, save that she had the height of her people. "What must I do?"

"Hera is loyal to you and you alone. You have often sought diversions elsewhere. You don't need her for that," she counseled.

"Among those who bore me after a short while," he interrupted.

"You keep her around to avert your boredom in the bedroom?" she disbelievingly inquired. For as long as she lived, she didn't think she would ever understand the mind of a man. While she admitted to receiving some pleasure from the act, she didn't think she got as much enjoyment out of it as Zeus did.

She wondered if anyone did.

The King of the gods shrugged, thinking back to that first night they'd become lovers, twenty years after he'd retrieved her. He'd never known her to be capable of such passion, of such intensity. It had blown his mind away and made the wait worth it. Even if there was a slight fear that she'd learned it from some lover while they'd been separated. For there was a feeling that there was a part to her that she was still holding back from him.

And, while he'd gloried in the feel of this new passion, he didn't want to share her with anyone. As a result, he'd become far more clingy of her, needed to have her within his sight and hearing constantly. She couldn't be unwound from him without remaking himself into someone else. He'd already done that once after the loss of Métis. And he'd only been able to do so because he had the vision of Hera in his mind, seeing her being right there with him every step of the way.

After courting her and wooing her for over three hundred years, could he be without her?

Shaking his head, he tried to find the words to tell Rhea what he was thinking. What he was feeling. It was not easy, the words felt clumsy and wrong even as they left his lips. "Hera is so much a part of who and what I am now that I cannot think of being without her. I can't even begin to contemplate life without her."

"Stop thinking of yourself. Try thinking of her for a change," she ordered.

"And then what?"

"Let her go," she simply said.

His head shook, not wanting to hear it. What he wanted was an actual solution to the problem before him that didn't include losing her. "Mother, I love her."

It was the first time he'd said the words in years. Since they had been first courting and then married. He couldn't remember the last time he'd told Hera that he loved her. When he'd said the words and meant them with the same intensity as he had in their early years.

"Do you love her or do you love the power you have over her?"

It was a penetrating question. One Zeus did not have an immediate answer for. As he sat on the rock beside his mother, he knew that he had much to think about.

Because he wasn't going to lose her.

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_Author's Note: Do I think Zeus ever physically abused Hera? I've never read any myths to support that theory but I think it possible. The only time he ever seemed to harm her was when she and a few other gods – including Athena – joined forces to overthrow him. They succeeded until they spent time arguing over who should take over, giving him time to escape and regain his lightening bolt and throne. Zeus chained her upside down on Olympus as punishment, freeing her only when she swore never to betray him again. Poseidon and Apollo had to build the Walls of Troy. But I don't think it was a common occurrence. I don't think he was the kind of person to do such a thing unless terribly provoked – and she had a tendency to incite him._


	6. Seeking Redemption and Saving the Hind

Heracles had been home for a few days when a letter from Eurystheus' daughter came for him by courier. While he accepted it, he put it aside to continue work on the garden and to watch the sheep grazing in the pasture. Seeing the fence only reinforced his sense of loss and guilt. He had failed his wife as surely as he had failed the trust Lycia had placed in him.

The fence lasted longer than the partnership formed on that day so long ago. If he'd had the courage, he would have gone to see her while in the Underworld. If only to reassure the Queen if ever he saw her again that Lycia was well.

Not that she would believe him.

It wasn't until the next morning that he decided he'd better find out what the girl wanted. Only minimally did he pay attention to her words until the last paragraph jumped out at him.

_Please, I would like to restore that honor which I stole. The Goddess Artemis said I should seek the Golden Hind of Keryneia and present it to Queen Hippolyta for restitution. Help me in my quest by guiding me there?_

It gave him a pause and caused him to reconsider his long held opinion of the girl. Though to be fair, she was in her late twenties, hardly a girl anymore. Obviously, the girl was learning grace, to admit to her faults, and leadership. That was well for the kingdom's continued healthy future. He would help her and hope that through this deed, Lycia would rest peacefully. For him, he sought no peace.

What he did was wrong.

And he'd never forgive himself.

656

Admeta waited on the dock for him and Megara. "Heracles, thank you for coming." Bowing low to them both, she studied them curiously. It had been many years since she'd seen either of them and seeing them both was a bit of a shock.

Not Heracles, he'd kept his youth well. Not really a surprise when one thought of his divine parentage and the gifts that entailed. She wondered if he ever felt burdened by the years as others did because he didn't age. People must expect so much from him.

And Meg…Meg looked older to her, though no less beautiful. She was still graceful but her hands were wrinkled. In her hands, she held a cane for her broken leg had never fully healed. As Admeta knew from her old nurse's letter regaling her with tales of home, her wound was a result of a bar fight Meg had broken up.

She hoped she was that spirited when she reached Meg's age.

Hazel eyes studied her, keeping care to keep his eyes in respectful places. He well remembered his last experience with these warriors. The princess' long, dark brown hair, the glorious mane of hair that she'd always taken such pride in, was cut to just under her ears. Her curious hazel eyes – always more grey than blue, watched him. They stood out more in her tanned face than they ever did, a slight smile on her face.

"I would not but the tone of your note seemed genuine."

"I realize that, Heracles, and it means a great deal to me that you came. Until I arrived, I never knew what I was robbing these women of. If I could, I would go back and ask my father to send me, instead of throwing a tantrum against going."

"I am sure that you remember Megara," Heracles kept his thoughts to himself. Wishing to go back never led to a good place.

"It is a privilege to see you once again. I hope you realize that I am doing you both a favor. I am getting to old for this," Megara gripped.

Admeta bowed, "I do. Thank you, Lady Megara of Lerna."

"Oh, I haven't heard that name in a while," she murmured. "Makes me feel even older as I remember those times."

"As Iolaus says, the rest of us get old. You, Meg, age like fine wine."

"That boy is a shameless flatter and should get married," she poked Heracles. They had finally talked about his suspicions over her feelings for his friend. While she admitted to loving Iolaus, she also knew that it was impossible. Iolaus may have feelings for her – and she knew it was possible – she was very aware that he'd never be able to choose her over Heracles.

And she needed to be first place in her lover's life, she was selfish enough to want that.

"I'll let him know, though he'll not pay any attention to my words," he replied seriously. "Shall we?"

"First, I must present you to Queen Hippolyta. Then, we must see what she has to say," Admeta bowed, "this way."

Age had not dimmed the Queen of the Amazons aura of authority. Heracles bowed before the queen, keeping his eyes on the ground until he'd been given leave to address her. In his mind though, he felt the burden of the years weigh heavily upon him.

It was in this very room that he'd fought and killed Lycia. Even now, the censure in the warrior's eyes still haunted this room. Condemnation caused when he did not fully engage himself in battle for fear of causing an even greater wrong than the theft had. The sound of the clashing swords echoed around him and he let it wash over him, needing to remember what he'd foolishly done.

"Ah, the Great Champion returns. And for what purpose? To try to replace that which you stole from me?" she mocked. "Rest assured, Heracles, such a thing will never happen. You have wronged more than me when you robbed me of my faithful Lycia. Because of that one act, we have withdrawn from the world and have closed our doors to strangers."

"I seek to make no reparations, my queen," he murmured. "We both know that it would make a lie of what happened years ago. Nor would it do Lycia any credit for she served you faithfully and well."

The hard, green eyes softened momentarily at his words. Being an excellent judge of humanity, she knew that he was honest with her. To short a time for any to realize that anything had changed within her. "See that you keep that in mind for I will not forget the true cost of your actions. I give you leave to travel my lands and take the Lady Admeta with you."

"Thank you, my queen," Admeta said. "But what of Lady Megara?"

Queen Hippolyta exchanged looks with the woman in question. The question was in her eyes as well as acknowledgement of the Queen's request. "I believe that she and I have much to discuss about our mutual past. Not that it is any business of yours," she rebuked lightly.

She flushed, "my apologies, Queen Hippolyta."

"Now, go." The queen watched the two walk off before turning to Megara. She dismissed the attendants from the room, wanting time alone with Meg. What needed to be said was between them and them alone. "Well?"

"Majesty?"

"Do not play me for a fool, my little Meg. I will not tolerate it. Nor should you allow it," her hard voice warned that she was in no mood for games of evasion. Rising, she indicated that they should leave the throne room and Meg followed her. "What really happened to Lycia that day?"

"You saw what happened that night as I did," Meg replied evasively, cursing their lack of foresight.

They had not thought up a cover story if that night was brought up and they should have. She should have thought of it for Lycia hadn't just been Queen Hippolyta's right hand woman – she'd been her only companion for the past fifteen years.

Though the past was over, it was far from forgotten to them. A lover never forgot that loss. Yet, they hadn't considered what might happen if asked after it. She had wondered if it might come up but hadn't wanted to say anything.

After all, what was there to say?

"Megara," the queen's hand clamped down on her shoulder. "That doesn't work. Now, tell me in your own words what happened that night."

"When he told me of this task, I went to see an Oracle. She revealed that he must meet you; he needed to see what you were really like. It never occurred to me that anything terrible would happen to someone. We snuck onto you island and broke into the castle's stronghold. You captured us and introduced Heracles to the truth behind the lies of the Amazons," she paused and swallowed.

This was the difficult part.

Regaining her composure after a moment, she continued the tale. "I know him for the man he is, he would have returned it once the princess was bored with it. Heracles stole your girdle and Lycia saw him leaving with it. She tried to take it back from him. As you know, she died in the attempt, something neither of us envisioned when we came to do this task."

"Megara, you knew Lycia as I did – better even than I in some regards for you knew her as family. She lived for the sword and Heracles had only the skill of a beginner. Why did she fall under his blade's uneven strokes and apologize to me for the failure? Why didn't she sound the alarm?" Her penetrating look bored into Megara.

"Well, Lycia has always been confident in her own abilities. May be she felt that there was no need for aid for she would be enough to stop him." She shrugged, trying to meet the gaze evenly – and utterly failing in the attempt. "As for the apology, she felt that she had failed you."

"No," Hippolyta firmly denied. "I know that something else was at work that night."

"How can you be so sure?"

"I have lived long enough to notice the difference when someone apologizes for something to me. She apologized not for failing to get it back – but for betraying me. And Lycia was my dearest friend before she became the companion of my heart."

The statement hung in the air between them, a coldly uttered sentence that seemed to freeze them both in the heat of the afternoon.

Grasping Meg's chin with her hands, Hippolyta firmly held her in place. Staring her straight in the eye, she slowly and firmly spoke to her. "You know the truth of that night, while I only suspect what truly happened. What I want to know is why she helped you at all. Family though you are, she was my most loyal servant and friend."

Placing her own hands on top of the queen's she sighed and thought back to a similar conversation that she had with another. "I asked her to."

"Not good enough, Meg, and you know it. Lycia was loyal and trustworthy. It must have killed her to do what she did. Why?"

"Athena told her what to do," she whispered at last. She could not keep the knowledge from the queen any longer. The strength to do so had fled at last. "Lycia sketched out what the girdle looked like and we stole the copy. I guess the guilt about what we were doing was too much, though she knew that this plan was blessed and sanctioned by the goddesses she worshipped all her life."

Resting her forehead against Meg's, the queen took a deep, shuddering breath. Her eyes closed, no longer holding back the tears that dripped onto the tunic she wore. "So, that's why."

It was the only words to escape her for several hours. She only moved once to rest her head on her friend's chest. Meg held her, stroking the greying red hair repetitiously. All the while knowing that it was not enough, it would never be enough to soothe the pain of twenty years of loneliness.

No word of apology escaped her lips for no word would ever be sincere or good enough.

654321

Heracles and Admeta stood for a moment, enduring the suspicious looks of the Amazons before they were allowed to pass. As they walked, he asked, "Do you know where we are to go? I have never heard of this Keryneia, though much has been said of the Golden Hind. And are you sure you want to anger the Goddess Artemis? I have never really met any of my divine family, so don't count on my paternal family to get you by."

"I wasn't," she calmly answered. "Everyone knows what your family is like, Heracles. And one would be a fool to ask for their help when you are involved for they would refuse. The Goddess Artemis knows what I intend to do. I spent many days in meditation and made many offerings of sacrifices to her before she answered my pleas. It was she who told me to bring the Golden Hind here for it has been driven from her home in Keryneia and is roaming between Arcadia and Achaea. The danger to her is quite real – and the Great Artemis wishes for it to end."

He nodded thoughtfully. That sounded like Artemis, though he'd only heard of her through Hermes descriptions of her. And Atalanta's telling him of her escapades with the goddess. "So, we are dealing with the possibility of hunting parties?"

"Possibly, though Artemis would not say for sure." Opening the door, she led him into a library and watched as he looked around, mouth open in amazement. "You didn't know that this place existed, did you? Not many do."

"Why?"

"Knowledge is a precious commodity; it is one of the many things that I have learned here. Much of our history is here in this place, for you will not find another place with it. Many of our battle strategies are learned here. They have also been created here," she replied. "Contrary to popular belief, we do not go out and raid other lands. Nor do we kill men or boy children."

"Lycia mentioned that," he murmured. "But I see very little good, fertile farm land. How do you provide food and clothing for your people?"

"We have an agreement with a village across the sea that is mutually beneficial. If they need our aid, we will help them. In exchange, they pay us in food and girl children."

"A village?"

"Would you rather I tell you that it is Sparta?" she asked, knowing of his rather strange relationship with the small community. "Although it's a small country, they are doing some things that may be strange to us. For example, their girls come here to be trained and at the age of maturity are sent back to marry if they so choose to return. They want these girls to be strong and capable of fighting, to allow them to bear healthy and strong boy children. And their age of maturity is much higher than ours. They allow them the right to choose their mate, even allow them the right to stay here if they so choose."

"Why would they return home? This seems to be a place that allows women freedom to choose their own path in life." He deliberately invoked Lycia's spirit with these words, well remembering her passionate declaration of why the Amazons desired to live as they did.

She shrugged, feeling the sting of the unspoken name clearly. "I don't know all the reasons why, but I know that in Sparta the women are not treated in the same way that Achaean women are. They are given more freedom and self-determination than we are used to thinking of. May be they desire more normalcy than living with the Amazons provides, as I am sure you must agree. Some believe they owe it to their family to marry well."

"What are we here for?" he asked, changing the subject.

"There's something we need from Kynthia," she answered.

The rest of her answer was lost when a short woman with blond hair walked over to them, a map under her arm. Though short, there was strength in her like in the other warriors. She was unbending, proud of who she was and what she had accomplished with her life. Curious brown eyes studied the pair.

It fled when she recognized the man and anger darkened their depths. "I know why you're here, Admeta, but why is he?" her thumb jerked towards him. Other than that, there was no other acknowledgment of him.

"Heracles came at my request," she started to say. The look in the other woman's eyes quickly made her realized her mistake.

"Your request? So, what? Now, you're Queen of the Amazons?" Kynthia's voice dripped of pure acid while her look was completely scornful.

Admeta flushed, lowering her face in shame. "No, I am not. My words came out wrong. Forgive me for my youth and impetuosity of speech."

"I would say so," she tartly replied. "Oh, come now, enough of that. What is going on?"

"I desired to make restitution for the wrong I committed years ago, using Heracles. After many days of asking for guidance, I received my reply. I sought the Queen afterwards and asked if I might write to Heracles for aid on my quest. After hearing what it was I wished to do, she agreed." Admeta squirmed under the direct eyes and study of the elder Amazon.

Though the suspicion in the eyes lessened, the hate remained. "If Queen Hippolyta has allowed his presence among us, then I suppose I cannot make any objections." Unrolling the map, she showed them both the best route to take into the heart of Peloponnesus.

Heracles knew many of these places, having seen them on his journeys over the years. But he did not recognize the way Kynthia was showing them and remained silent. From the perspective of Kynthia, he was there only to aid Admeta on her quest. Yet, the course she laid out before them looked to be a more complicated path for them to take.

However, knowing the gods and the way they thought, this path could be part of the test they had to pass in order to prove worthy of bearing the Golden Hind home.

She held out the only known sketch of the Golden Hind. It was a prized possession and she only relinquished it to them because the Queen had told her to. It was something she had drawn the only time she had seen the lovely animal.

"You must be careful in how you approach the Hind for she is sacred to Artemis. Permission or not, she is not one of the run of the mill creatures you find anywhere. Be very cautious and respectful of her. Above all else, do not bring harm to her," Kynthia warned them.

The man looked away, knowing that the warning was more for him than her. Though he didn't seek redemption, he wished to repair their opinion of him.

"Thank you, Kynthia," Admeta said, taking the proffered sketch. "I will return this to you upon our return."

"See that you do," she turned on her heel and walked away.

"What do we do now, Heracles?" she asked, rolling up the parchment and placing it under her arm. She would transfer it to a suitable carrier later.

"Now? If you would follow my counsel, I would suggest that we get the necessary supplies and arrange for transportation to the mainland."

"And then?"

"Then we follow Kynthia's instructions," he said.

**Achaea Mainland**

The boat dropped them off near Sparta and they gathered other provisions. Then they made their way up to the mountains that Pan calls home. Since it was Admeta's quest, he let her lead the way, though he often gave advice. After all, his travels had to be good for something other than gaining a reputation for taking care of insurmountable problems.

Three months later, after dinner was done, they were lying on the ground. It was a quiet night, much like the other ones they had shared. Happily enough, they got along well. Staring up as the stars came out, twinkling in the night sky, she asked. "Do you think I'm a horrible person?"

"Why?" He tilted his head so that he could study her profile. Over the course of their trip, she'd impressed him with her hard work. There were shades of Atalanta in her, though his old Argonaut would be horrified to be compared with the formerly pampered princess – absolutely horrified. Even if she was a princess herself, Atalanta preferred to think of herself as a huntress.

That was an easy thing for him to do for she was amazing – one only had to recall that she was the one who struck first blood on the Caledonian boar. No, he hadn't been there but Castor had told him all about it one quiet night.

Rolling over, she looked at him and answered simply. "I'm trying to catch something that deserves to be free."

He was silent, thinking about her question. "Well, I suppose that depends on what you plan on doing with her once she's been caught."

"Release her into the wild. In a hopefully safer location than where she lives now," she replied honestly. "What else is there to be done?"

"I think, princess that you have your answer." After that, they were still.

Bright and early the next day, they rose and started off towards the southeast. With the sun in front of them, it was a bit difficult to look about but they could smell the familiar scent of olives in the air.

"There will be a harvest soon," Heracles commented.

"Wish to stay for the debauchery?" she asked, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. "I hear that _**is**_ something heroes enjoy."

"Only if there are many innocent girls about," he leered in response. He almost, but not quite, ducked the blow she aimed at his head. "Hey! You started it. Honestly, Admeta, you should not believe everything you hear. Even the truth about my adventures has a shade of untruths to them."

Shaking her head in bemusement, they continued to walk until they looked about. "This doesn't look like anything on the map."

"Let's go a little further on. If nothing jars your memory, then we'll worry."

"You can worry if you want to," she retorted. "I'll be _doing_ something about it." All the same, they went forward until they passed into the shadow of a copse of olive trees.

Pausing on the side of the road, she closed her eyes, trying to recall what way Kynthia had told them to go. Heracles heard footsteps coming towards them and pulled her off the road. Since it was still early and they'd yet to meet anyone, he felt it best to find out if they were friend or foe before revealing their presence. Peering over the edge, they held their breath as a troop of soldiers walked by.

Gasping, they stared in disbelief at the beautiful creature that was captured.

In the center of the line of soldiers, a deer with golden hooves and horns was dragged in chains. Her head was bowed and she trembled as she walked on, her fear an actual scent in the nostrils of the hidden pair. The deer seemed to hear the sound and glanced over at them, soft brown eyes alive with a plea.

Admeta started to rise but Heracles pulled her back down, resting a warning finger on his lips. Jerking his head in the direction of the troops, then a significant gesture between the two of them, and she subsided, knowing what he meant. She hated it but they couldn't help the hind dead.

Once they were gone, they climbed up on the road and stared after them. "Those beasts!" she spat the word out and shook her fist angrily, though it didn't really do any good. "What do you think they will do?"

"I don't know. Put her on display, I would imagine."

"She's not an object for derision!"

"No," he agreed.

"Then let's do something about it," she started off after the troop and he grabbed her.

"Admeta, we can't just march after them and take them on. We are only two to their many."

"But you're Heracles! They would listen to you," she protested.

"To me tell them what? I may be a warrior of renown, but these are men who are in the service of someone else. Their jobs would be on the line if I convinced them to let her go without a good reason – and we cannot invoke Artemis' name without her express consent. And that would mean revealing more than just her name. Do you want to tell them why we are doing this?"

"So, what? Are you saying we should do nothing?" she stared at him, eyes wide with betrayal. "What kind of hero are you?"

"I didn't say that. I just think that we should get some more information, find out if they are under orders from someone. Or if they've even told their captain that they have the hind," he said. "If they haven't, it is a simple matter of grabbing her and running."

Though she didn't like the idea of waiting, she nodded tightly. "Fine. How do you propose we accomplish this?"

"You are the Princess of Tyrins, heir to the throne. We can play that angle," he said.

"And you?"

"I'm your body-guard. Trained with the Amazons though you were, no father would allow his only heir to travel alone. We were on a royal tour, introducing you to your future allies when a storm knocked us off course. As there was a vicious one not that long ago, they can't deny that part of our story and it brought us here. There was a wrecked ship of Tyrins origin back there, I know of it because it was the one Iolaus and I used before."

She only looked at him skeptically.

"I know it's a long shot. But what other choice do we have? They won't talk to anybody who appears to be after the hind they just caught. Or looks suspicious. We have to have some legitimate reason for being in the area. Many of your allies are here, we even stopped in one of them two days ago."

"And of course, a royal princess traveling alone with one body-guard is not suspicious," she retorted, crossing her arms over her chest.

"As you pointed out earlier, I'm Heracles. Do you really need anyone else when the legend is protecting you?" There was a derogatory note in his voice, as though he hated saying the words and hated the way they applied to him.

"Do you really think they're that stupid?"

"Do you really think that they are actually going to think about anything when confronted with me and the weight of my reputation?" he countered.

She bit her lip, thinking about his words. Even though she knew the truth of his adventures and the many times he had friends helping him out, she was well aware that the stories said that he did it all on his own – Iolaus was completely excised from the tales.

Not only Iolaus, many of the tales ignored the very real help of Meg and Deianeira – for it had been his wife who had helped him figure out how to defeat Proteus. And it had been Atalanta and him who had convinced the Argonauts to leave the island of Lemnos, though they had been enjoying the warm and willing women there.

The soft eyes of the hind flashed before her eyes, eyes so full of hurting. It only took a moment to make up her mind. Saving the Hind was the main reason she was on this journey, could she ignore her pain just because the plan was flimsy?

"Let's do it."

After working out a satisfying story, they followed after the troop. Heracles stood back and let her do the talking, his eyes darting around and studying the layout. Once he was satisfied all was as it should be, that the two of them would be able to get out of danger should it prove necessary, he turned his attention back to the conversation going on between the captain and Admeta.

"So, if you wouldn't mind, Heracles and I would like to join you as you walk to the nearest town," she finished, standing proudly beside him. To the casual observer, it would appear that she was unconcerned with his reaction. Whether the man wanted them or not, she would travel with them.

"Why? The great one not capable of keeping you safe?" he taunted, trying to get a rise out of the man. Heracles did not seem as impressive as the tales made him and he wished to see if there really was some strength in the man.

In reply, Heracles flashed a feral grin at him. Obviously, he knew what the other man wanted – and had no intention of giving in just for the sake of a taunt. One of the benefits of all those tasks he'd performed was that he'd finally learned self-control. If the man wanted to test his mettle, he'd best come at him fists raised and prepared for a defeat.

Admeta's voice became colder than ice. "Do you think that my father would have sent someone inept to accompany me? If he had, I am sure that you would have received a letter. We merely wish to join you because we have spent several weeks traveling with only each other for company. That has a tendency to grate on ones nerves after a while as I'm sure a seasoned officer as you would agree."

His lips tightened and he stared down at the future queen of Tyrins. She met his look with a cool and contemptuous one of her own. "Very well," he said, having no other choice. If it became known that he refused, there would be war with Tyrins. Having just ended an engagement with Sparta, another war was something they couldn't afford. Especially since her city was part of the Delian League and would be able to contact them for help should war happen.

They journeyed on down into the valley. As it was fall, the air was crisp enough to necessitate the wearing of cloaks. But was still warm enough that they could get away with light ones instead heavier ones. The walk would've been far more uncomfortable is they'd had to wear them.

As it was, they were still sweating under the sun's persistent rays. The walk was mostly quiet, not even the animals in the woods made a sound, though Admeta mingled with the men, talking to them. As their tales of families rang in her ears, a small frown marred her face, though she was careful to keep it hidden.

It would seem that rescuing the Hind would cost a great many good men their lives. Her natural inclination said '_so what_' and yet, a good leader was one who measured the cost of all – and tried their best to minimize it. _What would Queen Hippolyta do if she was here_?

One thing was certain, if her first thought was to let the men die, she still had a great deal more to learn if she was to become the leader she wanted to be.

It was late at night, Heracles sat at the edge of camp, staring out at the stars. Behind him, he could hear the sounds of the camp settling down for the night. Just off to the right, but directly in line of his sight, was Admeta. On the left, the beautiful hind shivered in the cage, panting and moving about restlessly, seeking escape.

Her pain echoed his own and he wanted to smash the cage open, letting her free. So similar was her plight to how he'd felt growing up, trapped in a body that had greater strength than he knew how to handle – and trapped by the perceptions of those about him. As he had been freed by the tasks that had taught him his limits, had taught him to control his strength, they had also allowed him to be who he was and still fulfill his duty to king and country, he wished to help her.

The only thing stopping him was that these men were honest. Some of them even had families that depended upon the hard work they did for their leader. If the hind was set free in such a way, they would lose valuable income – and perhaps even their lives.

Running frustrated hands through his hair, he wondered just what he was going to do. For quite possibly the first time in his life, he felt out of his depths and utterly incapable of completing the task set before him. No advice from Cheiron came to mind, no joking quip from Iolaus, and even the part of him that sounded like Meg was silent.

And he could certainly use her advice.

He wished that he had the faith of his mother. The faith that had lead her to believe that making him a servant to Hera would best help him learn to control his temper. That faith she'd always had, he wished that he could ask aid of the gods and know that they would answer.

Never before had he asked for he was always half-afraid that they would say nay – or ignore him utterly.

Admeta settled down on her blanket, eyes half closed as she watched the men in the camp. Turning her attention away from them and towards Heracles, she noticed that his head had bowed and his lips were moving in silent conversation. It puzzled her to see a man so strong, bowed in such a humble fashion, seeking guidance.

She wondered if he were praying to his father Zeus, asking for his help. If that was the case, she feared for the success of their mission. Of all the things she'd heard of Heracles and his adventures, him asking for the aid of the gods was the one thing that was left out.

If victory was to be had, it was because Heracles persevered. He'd find some way around the obstacle, even if the outcome was not one he would've desired. There was a wince as she thought of the girdle and Lycia's death.

No, that was a situation whose end result, while successful, had come at to high a cost for him and those around him.

The man was utterly unlike any male she'd known – and he was far from what his reputation made him out to be. He'd not once said or done anything that she'd take offence to – nor had he thrown her actions into her face. And if anyone had the right to cause her pain, it was him for he'd suffered at her hands.

As had her new family the Amazons with the loss of one of their own. It made her feel ever more regretful that she'd been so foolish, so stupid, and so very prideful in her youth.

The hair on the back of her neck rose suddenly. Glancing up, she saw a veiled woman in blue walking slowly through the camp. A jeweled crown atop her twined hair, she walked as though on air. The men seemed to be in utter ignorance of her as she moved through them.

Admeta shivered, recognizing divinity when she saw it. Though she was probably being blessed to see this sight, she turned away. Such a vision was for the chosen of the gods – not a mortal like her who had not done right in her youth.


	7. A Mother and Son Reunite

The woman's hand rested on Heracles' shoulder and he looked up, startled to see her there. In all of his experiences, the only one of the gods he'd ever personally met was Hermes. Though he'd come across Ares as well, the situation hardly called for polite introductions. For their meeting had occurred in battle when he'd run afoul of Ares' son and the god had come down to defend him. The second time they'd met was during the battle of the Gigantes.

So, when asking for aid, he'd thought of Hermes coming to see him. May be even Athena would come to help him for not only was she the goddess of wisdom, but she was the patron of heroes. Often on his adventures, she'd been there for him, helping him come up with answers and plans. May be even Artemis for it was her Hind they were seeking to save. She had a real reason to come to him.

But the Queen of the gods herself? No, she was the last person he thought would come down to him. To personally help him out, though he was glad to meet her under better circumstances than battle. The sight of that gigante about to harm her was one that had given him bad nightmares for he could only see his dear wife in that position.

"Great Queen Hera," he greeted, reverently. All the while, he covertly studied her. There was about her a sense of the familiar, like he'd met her before. She reminded him vaguely of the old woman who'd helped him when he'd set out against the hydra. Her touch on his shoulder was strong and comforting, as the touch of his mother's had been.

Had she always been there, guiding his footsteps and comforting him? "Mother." His voice lowered to complete his welcome, making it more personal than may have been warranted. And yet, he felt that it would not be out of place in this situation.

"Do you call me so because I am the Queen of the gods? Thus, I am known as the mother of all mortals?" she asked archly, moving around him to sit in mid-air. "Or because Zeus is rumored to be your father – and is my husband?"

"I call you so because you are my mother. Zeus is not my father as many say," he replied steadily, meeting her eyes dead on. Though he was not trying to be deliberately challenging, there was a definite sense of the gauntlet being thrown down. A sense that he wanted her to accept – or reject his words in some fashion.

That she, unlike Zeus, would respond to his unspoken question. The question that had dominated much of his life ever since learning that he was a demigod. If anyone could answer the question as to why he even existed, and give him an answer he could trust, it would be Hera.

He'd never heard of Hera being anything but honest. Mean spirited, perhaps and always to those who'd stolen her husband's affections away from her, but bluntly honest in her words and actions. Even her cruelty had an edge of truth to it. She took her role as protector of women and marriage seriously and punished those who were unfaithful to their vows, though she could not touch Zeus himself.

One only had to ask Jason about his relationship with her to know that she always dealt honestly, sometimes brutally, with her followers. Even though he'd been on the journey, circumstances had forced him to depart before he could see any of her actions in Jason's life. But he knew that the man considered her his patron goddess and worshipped her to this day.

If one had talked to Jason, he credited Hera completely for the success in his mission, though he did not discount Medea and all that she had done for him. He knew that he owed his wife much, especially for turning against her family as she had.

Nor did he discount Hekate's wisdom. If not for her teachings, they would not have been able to escape as many times as they had without shedding more blood than necessary. It had been an illusion, this killing of her brother, in order to buy them time. Had they not been made aware of the fact that they would lose the gods' favor, they might have truly slain the man.

Thus, it was that Hera had his full allegiance and the full measure of his devotion.

For it was she who had covered him in her protection. She had often warned him, advised him, and she had aided him fully whenever she could. She had also convinced him that if he remained true to the promise he made to Medea, he would be blessed. Though she would not say when the blessing would happen, she pledged to him that it would happen should he continue to be faithful.

While Jason had wanted to marry that princess and begin life anew, he honored his commitment to the woman who'd suffered through so much with him and for him. Together, they weathered the storm of unpopularity and poverty, growing stronger as a couple.

As promised, his throne was restored to him.

Sometimes, Heracles had the feeling that Jason had fallen in love with Hera. As the man had been a good friend to him and Iolaus, he really hoped that word of his possible affection for the goddess would never reach Zeus' ear. While he would defend him, he didn't want his friend to come to such an inglorious end for feeling something that he couldn't really control.

"And how can you be so sure when the world speaks of Zeus as your father? When your mortal mother is a beauty that would catch and hold the eye of Zeus himself?" her gentle query was quietly spoken.

"Zeus would never have tried to comfort me over the loss of my wife and children," he answered, tilting his head to better study her. "And he would not have tried to protect them as you did."

She raised an eyebrow, surprised by his continued perseverance. In that moment, she could see past the godly trappings that had been laid upon him because of her and see Philon in him. That fortitude, that clever mind, those eyes sparkling with curiosity that demanded an answer from her that fit what he'd already figured out.

"I? Protect them? What makes you believe such a thing?"

"Deianeira was faithful to you. She offered her life as sacrifice in service to you if you would but help her family in their need. A prayer you answered when you sent me to take care of the centaur troubling them. It was upon receiving your unspoken approval that she agreed to marry me. She felt your familiar presence, trying to protect them from the beast."

"Even a god cannot hold back death when the Fates have decreed it," she sighed, reaching out a hand to rest upon his arm. Squeezing in comfort, she pulled back her veil so that he could look upon her and see her sincerity. "I only wish I could have done more than I did for them. There is nothing I know in my vast vocabulary of words to say that can reassure you in this time of loss when you badly need to hear anything to guide you through, no words come to my lips of consolation over your loss.

"The truth is nothing one can ignore or overlook. It is cold and uncaring of human emotions. Even to say that this pain shall pass in time is no relief for one who is in despair. Demeter learns that anew every year when she loses Persephone to Hades even though she realizes how joyful, how happy Hades makes her beloved child. She hides herself away from all, refusing even to visit her daughter."

"Mother, why have you not come to me before?" he asked, unable to keep his eyes away from her. No wonder Zeus kept her as his Queen throughout their troubles. Even with the burden of the years upon her face, for she had yet to take her yearly cleansing bath, she was radiant. The cares of taking care of her worshippers only made her more beautiful to him for it revealed the humanity within her.

Hera studied him, soft love for her son in her eyes. "You have never needed me before, never asked that I be here with you. And how could I? Should Zeus suspect something, you would bear the brunt of his fury, not I. I could not do that to my son. I once let Hephaestus bear that anger, I promised myself that I would never do that again."

Heracles nodded, knowing well of Zeus' rages. All knew what happened to the unfortunate Ixion who lusted after her, how Zeus had tricked him into embracing a cloud who looked like Hera. And then condemned him to spin the heavens on a fiery wheel as punishment for trying to have her.

The idea of him finding out that Hera had a son with another was a thought Heracles didn't think worth contemplating.

But he did need to know something else, had to know if the man who'd raised him with such distant caring could possibly be the man this woman had cared enough for that she broke her vows. While the man was certainly a caring father, he had never really embraced Heracles as he had Iolaus and Iphicles.

The image of the two of them together did not work in his mind. "Is Amphitryon my father?"

"No. I am deeply sorry to have to tell you that he died, not knowing of your existence. Had he known, he would have been delighted. He so loved children," she softly replied, closing her eyes against the remembrance of her loss. "The men will sleep heavily tonight and there will be no danger brought to the camp. Admeta has chosen to ignore my presence, so we shall be quite alone."

"She is aware of you?" he asked, slightly disbelieving that she would take this risk. If it ever got back to Zeus that she had been where he was, he might assume the worst. And she would bear the brunt of his rage for trying to interfere with the life of the man he thought was his son.

"I was hoping only to come and help you find a way to free the hind. She is to be sacrificed in two days time," she warned him. "There is little one can do if one is not warned in advance."

"Why don't the gods do something?" he demanded. "It is in your power."

"When Prometheus created man, he gave them free will. Unto them he rendered the gift of agency, to choose whether or not they will listen to us. As a result, we can only counsel and guide. To interfere directly is to destroy the gift given to them, to make of them slaves. We would destroy the very gift that we allowed them to have.

"We are independent of mortals, yes. There is no use denying that we are immortal – but there is a rather tragic loophole to that. It is true that we came first and we created man. But we are also dependent upon them for they keep us real, keep us tied to a life that we are not privileged to have for we are immortal and far removed from the things of the world," she quietly told him.

Heracles digested the knowledge as he sat there. To see his real mother, to know that she was willing to give him answers – risking much should Zeus find out about it – made his heart beat that much faster. Yet, he realized that it could not be.

Not now. "Talk to me of father another time. To see such a beautiful life wasted is a shame. Is there nothing you can do?"

"The task was given to Admeta," she reminded him. "Should I interfere with what is to happen, it must be at her request – and her plan. There is no other way for the Fates to be appeased for it was they who decreed that this must be. And, even as the gods are powerless against death, we are also at the mercy of Fate. The power of the gods cannot revise the power of the fates."

"I'm beginning to think that being a god is almost as much trouble as being a mortal."

Hera smiled slightly, "I will agree with you there. The benefits are sometimes buried underneath the negatives far more than we like."

Stiffening, she looked over his shoulder at something he knew that even if he tried, he could not see it. "I shall ask Athena if she would be willing to come to you. Zeus has returned to Olympus and if I am not there, he…will become twitchy."

"Ah, yes. Is it because you had that vacation?" he asked archly. It was obvious that it was on the vacation that he'd been conceived.

"You are too observant for your own good," she replied, nodding slightly in acquiesce of his guess. In truth, there was no reason to keep it from him.

Glad she was that he now knew the truth. "Awaken Admeta and tell her not to fear, the goddess is with her in this. We all are. Should you need advice from me, seek Apollo. Of all the gods, he is the one I trust the most."

"Thank you, mother," he whispered.

She paused, half turned about and smiled before veiling her face once more. "I just wish I could do more for you, Heracles."

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Hera made her way quickly through the throng, trying to reach her place before Zeus appeared in the doorway. As she passed Artemis, she gave her a small smile of thanks. A part of her wondered why the goddess had helped her and was resolved anew to help the Golden Hind be safe.

With only a few seconds to spare, she stood at the head of the line and breathed in deep, a smile of welcome on her face as he entered. After not seeing him for days, his dark looks took her breath from her lungs and she curtsied to hide that fact. If he saw, he might want to pursue the lost topic of introducing her to decadence.

"Hera," he quietly said. So quiet that she almost didn't hear him. "We need to talk."

"Of course, sire. Shall I ask Athena to handle tonight's revelry?" she asked, mind racing to try to figure out what she had done now. As nothing came immediately to mind, she could only fear that he'd figured out the truth about Heracles.

Her eyes became hard chips of ice that she kept veiled by her lashes. If he thought she was going to let another one of her sons be harmed by his careless actions, he had another thought coming. There was no way in Tartarus that she'd let him _touch_ Heracles. She'd tear him apart with her bare hands first – King of the gods or not.

She'd only wished she'd been so protective with Hephaestus.

He paused, as though he'd forgotten that night's revelry. This fact made her rethink the possibility that it was about Heracles since it was the anniversary of his defeat of Kronus. In all the time that they had celebrated this, he never once forgot it. He loved the wine and the revelry – and the women – far too much. "Yes, that would be acceptable."

"Does this have something to do with Troy?" she asked him. Discord had caused quite a stir at the wedding of Thetis with her apple. '_To the fairest_' it had said and all those there had wanted to claim it for themselves. Hera herself might have picked it up, save for the fact that she didn't feel that she should be a part of the competition. Especially since she knew that Zeus would be the one to decide who received the apple.

She didn't think she could take that humiliation as he inevitably chose another over her.

In the end, it fell to Aphrodite and Athena, this competition. Surprisingly, the goddess of wisdom had wanted it. But the greater shock was when _Demeter_ had demanded it for herself, feeling that she deserved it for all that she had taught mortals – and for the actions of her daughter towards the mortal dead. Thus, Zeus had sent them down to be judged of Paris. To know no one's real surprise – except those competing – he had chosen Aphrodite.

And earned the enmity and hatred of the other two goddesses. They were just bidding their time until they could bring their revenge to bear upon his head. Things had intensified when it was revealed that he was no shepherd's son but a Prince of the Trojan household.

"No," he said, running a hand through his hair, disheveling it further. "Please, no more questions until we are alone."

"As you wish, sire. I will join you in a few minutes," she said, watching him disappear around the corner before making her way over to the grey eyed goddess. Métis' daughter was watching her approach with wary eyes for they had never quite gotten along. "Zeus requests that you take over tonight's festivities as he has something to discuss with me."

She nodded slowly; studying Hera's guarded expression carefully. There was something else in those eyes that spoke to Athena. Something that said Hera was not quite finished talking to her but was unsure of how to bring up whatever subject it was upon her mind.

Athena had no such problem. "Was there something else you wished to speak to me about?"

"Yes," here she hesitated because she knew of Athena's deep loyalty to Zeus. If it got back to him that she requested the goddess of wisdom help Heracles, he would be suspicious. It was not at all the same as when she helped Jason and his Argonauts. For then, Heracles had only been a member, not the one who would directly benefit from her aid.

Of all the things he could be accused of, being stupid was not one of them. He may just figure out the truth.

Still, the Hind did not deserve to die because she feared being exposed. Such an animal was too beautiful and too rare to be sacrificed for Hera's safety. "As uncharacteristic of it is of me to wish divine aid upon any one of Zeus' many mortal children, the Golden Hind is in danger of being killed by foolish mortals. Only one of us has the strategic mind to see that she may escape this tragic fate that awaits her and that harm falls upon no good mortal."

She paused, before finishing quietly, "I wish you to offer some aid to Heracles, though this is only a request and not an order."

Again, there was a considering look in the grey eyes as they contemplated the Queen of the gods. She knew there was something more to this request than was being spoken. There was no way that she could miss the tension in her posture and the hesitance of her words. The question was, did she respect Hera enough to not pursue it?

True, Hera had never done anything to make her feel unwelcome or even less of a goddess because she did not have the traditional upbringing – or even birth – of a child. Athena was quite aware that part of it had to do with her status as Zeus' favorite child. That position had kept her from having to argue her own position about a lot of things.

But she felt that there might be something more to it than that. For she'd never tried to force her hand in any way towards marriage, not that it would have done her any good. Athena had chosen a path that fit one of her nature, her talents, and feelings. Marriage and child rearing was not for her.

There was also the fate of the Golden Hind to consider. As the last of its kind, if she refused to help, she would be lost to the world. That such an animal would be removed from the sight of all should she turn away because she did not personally care for Hera was unacceptable to her.

It was the same with the theft of Hippolyta's girdle. Although, she also had to admit to some selfishness there. If she allowed that theft, then she was agreeing with the right of men to decide the path of a woman's life without her input. Should she do so, then she must yield to a man's decision regarding her – or be known as a hypocrite.

Such an unpalatable thought that was.

"I will do my best to aid him," she agreed, her head bowing regally.

"Thank you," Hera's reply was quiet. "I leave you to the evening's entertainment. For I know that they promise to be nothing if not unique."

An eyebrow rose, her reply was dryly spoken. "I'm not sure whether to thank you for such good wishes – or to wish Father Zeus wasn't so occupied that he felt the need to desert me to such…nonsense."

Hera laughed, though it was not unkind sounding. And she offered up this small piece of advice. "Be thankful that Dionysius isn't supposed to be here for all of this. He makes Psyche uncomfortable and this is partly for her and Eros. They have been gone for some time and deserve this welcome home party."

"A small consolation that," she agreed, watching as Hera followed the path that Zeus took. After making sure that everyone was comfortable and that the festivities were well under way – and fully under her control, she cornered Apollo by the dinning table. "What is going on?"

"With?" he asked, mostly sure he knew to what she was referring to but unwilling to make it easy for her. While he knew who he was loyal to, he knew who she was loyal to. And he was resolved that – unless something truly awful happened – he was never going to let anyone know what Hera had told him, not even his sister would hear of the truth.

Hera had taken a big chance confirming his suspicions. Zeus was, after all, his father. And knowing that she'd not been exactly kind to his mother Leto during her pregnancy was not precisely the kind of thing that would inspire confidence in his loyalty to her.

Still, she had trusted him – and he could hardly reward her trust with betrayal.

Athena's look was one of pure irritation. "Don't give me that innocent look, Apollo. It doesn't suit you at all, though I will admit that it fools some people. You know more than anyone else around here what's going on between Hera and Zeus. She wasn't here until Artemis signaled her, which means you know something. I want to know what it is."

"Then you'll need to ask Zeus," he simply said. "I don't break confidences given to me. If I did, I wouldn't consider myself worthy of hearing them."

Instead of looking put out, she looked satisfied. At his questioning look, she guilelessly smiled, "You admitted that something was going on instead of insulting my intelligence. I appreciate that."

"I'm not Ares," he shrugged. "Thinking you stupid has never been an intent in my mind because you aren't – and I am not about to underestimate any opponent I come up against. Even if it's only in a friendly sparing match," he added, putting down his glass to join the Muses and the Graces in the center of the floor as they danced about merrily.

Thankfully, she did not follow him.

Artemis joined him a few moments later. "What did Athena want?" she asked, moving in time with the dancers with an ease mortals would envy. She stayed close to him, keeping her voice low. "To taunt you once more about your lousy taste in women?"

"No," he snapped, watching the dancers before her hand touched his arm gently. Looking down at her, seeing the apology in her eyes, he knew he couldn't lie – not about this at least. With ease, he kept them central and away from the keenest gossips among their entourage. "She wanted to know what I knew about the situation between Hera and Zeus."

"And what did you tell her?"

"That she needed to ask Zeus," he calmly replied, all the while hoping she would drop the subject. If she didn't, he'd have a hard time keeping his promise to keep Hera's secret just that – a secret. Lying had never been easy for him.

If he was honest, he'd never told a lie. That was why he was well noted for honesty. And while he knew it was a bit of a contradiction for he could also cruelly punish people for speaking honestly, he knew only that it had to be done.

Thus, he was also a god of distance. "Thank you for warning Hera that he was coming. You didn't have to."

Spinning out from the dancers and onto the wider floor, her skirt billowed for a moment, showing off just a bit of leg before she returned to the inner circle and his side. "If you're going to protect her, I figured that I should help you out. We've never been on opposite sides of any battle – ever. I may not have appreciated your warning me of Orion, but we've never fought each other. Why start now?"

Apollo nearly missed a step at her words. She couldn't possibly mean? The awareness in her eyes let him know that she'd figured out the truth. A part of him feared that if she knew, others did to and he'd need to find a way to find out who did and who didn't.

"How did you?" his question was both resigned – and relieved for he also knew that he'd found an ally worthy of the title.

"You inspire fear and absolute obedience in your Pythias, brother, as do I. Well, most of them respect us – that Trojan Princess is absolute crap when it comes to trust and honor. You shouldn't have ordered them to place the same amount of trust in me as they do you. Give me some credit. I may not be as smart as Athena, but I'm far from stupid.

"When she went down to see him, I feared she was up to some mischief at last. I feared for the Hind, for her safety. But she comforted him, not even noticing anything else. Then, I started to wonder if the Pythias was right. If what she'd told me was more than just mindless babbling.

"Once I considered this option, it really didn't take much to figure out the truth based on the evidence clearly placed before me. Not only do we share the same parents, we share the same ability to figure things out.

"The resemblance between them is not striking enough for anyone to figure it out upon seeing them but there are enough similarities that add up to a complete whole if one knows what to look for. Especially in the eyes, they have that rare green that she possesses. That distinctive color is only found in three pairs of eyes on Olympus – and not one of them is Zeus'. Even if there are some who have just a hint of the shade in their eyes," she replied, a smirk on her face.

This was truth for both Hebe and Hephaestus had a hint of green in their eyes.

His head shook as his laugh rang out through the room, glad of the generous libation of wine and ambrosia flowing through the veins of the assembled. They would have been in some trouble had that not been the case for someone would've picked up on the seriousness of their talk.

It was only a wonder Athena hadn't come their way, demanding answers. "You can't tell anyone."

She scoffed. "Who would I tell? Those vipers? I think it's about time that she got some life outside of him, though I just don't understand what the attraction is all about."

"Even after Orion?" he asked, knowing that she'd had some feelings for the hunter. As much as he hated to admit it, those feelings she'd had for him had left him feeling jealous. For so long, he'd been her best friend and hunting partner that he wasn't sure he knew how to handle taking second place to anyone – even if the man had challenged her in a way that no other ever had.

He didn't like being replaced.

"Orion was a mistake," she viciously retorted. "One I never intend to make again. His hunting skills blinded me to the truth of his character. A truth you saw all too clearly, yet one of my own was nearly harmed because I didn't want to listen to you. No. I don't intend to let my guard down again."

"I'm sure you don't," he replied.

She studied him intently, "Perhaps you will also start listening more to me."

"About?" he asked, guardedly.

"Your love life. While I would never ask you to give it up – since I know you won't anyway – perhaps you would be more willing to listen to me. I told you that Princess Cassandra was only using you. If you had come to me, I would have told you to go after her younger sister. Now, Polyxena would not have betrayed your trust – nor your love."

Apollo sighed. "One cannot help when one falls in love."

"Then you should have waited before giving her the visions," she replied. "Honestly, that was far from smart. You must've suspected something."

"We can't all be you," he replied.

Apollo noticed Athena watching them, an imperiously questioning look on her face. Subtly, he indicated her and Artemis acknowledged it. "Later," he whispered, moving out of the center and towards the outer rim, accepting his lyre. With a few deft strokes, he changed the melody from tempestuous and heady to a slower, mellower sound.

The Graces and the Muses switched patterns easily before Terpsichore moved to stand before him, clearing her throat. As she spoke, they faded back further, leaving the floor to her. "A tale of the gods and goddesses, back before time was time and things were as they are now."

Hermes walked over to Athena, "Something troubles you, noble sister of mine?"

"Nothing that I can put my finger on," she admitted with a sigh. "It has nothing to do with Troy – and everything to do with Zeus and Hera. Have you noticed anything odd about them?"

"They are always odd. It's called love," he replied, leaning back against the pillar.

She shook her head. "I've seen love."

"Seeing and experiencing it are two different things," he replied. "If you've never experienced it, then you can't really judge it."

"Don't you start in on me, Hermes," she threatened him. "I can take almost anything from you but that."

He held up his hands, "Never thought of it. But you have to understand that love comes in many forms and what we see when observing them is just one kind."

"But they aren't," she searched for the word, "Happy."

"To our eyes, but they once were. I have to believe that they will again," he answered. As much as he wished to confide in Athena, he couldn't. It had been many years since that ill conceived message had been given and the reaction to it…he'd known Zeus would be upset, but he'd never imagined how angry and destructive he would be.

Olympus still bore the scars of Zeus' lightening strikes.

"Why would you think they have a chance?" she asked.

"Because he wanted her back," he simply said. "Zeus never does anything merely because of pride. He went after her and he didn't have to. She would've made it back some day for this is where she belongs and her heart would lead her home.

"Yet, he couldn't wait for that time because his heart wanted her home. Upon her return, he gave her time to heal from whatever it was that so hurt her. To come back to him in fullness of heart and mind as his wife. No man has that much patience for someone that they don't love."

Her head shook, "I just don't understand."

"Watch him sometime," he advised her. "Especially his eyes, it's all there."


	8. When You See Yourself, What Do You See?

_Author's Note : I am rather concerned about this part, so I hope it goes well and disappoints no one. I will find time to write everyone of my generous reviewers when I get the chance. But I wanted to get this part out, forgive it if it seems a bit rough. As noted, this part - and the next one which will be posted at a later date - breaks cycle just a bit. Poor Heracles, he gets totally ignored in his own story_.

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Hera knocked on the door, taking only a moment to breathe deeply. Upon hearing his call for her to enter, she opened it, noting that Zeus was sitting down. The only light came from outside, the stars illuminating him in their heavenly glow only adding to his beauty. Contemplating the starry night sky at the large window, he gestured for her to enter and sit beside him.

With some trepidation, for she was unsure of what to make of this quiet side of him, she did so. They sat in silence for a while and she found herself relaxing, looking out at the stars with him. Though some of the stars were ones she couldn't bear to look at – for obvious reasons – she couldn't help but appreciate their beauty all the same.

Quiet reflection had never been something they did much of for Zeus was pure motion. Just watching him was guaranteed to take one's breath away – and not always in a good way. So, it was…nice to just be with him, breathing him in and feeling his solid presence beside her. In the early days of their courtship, when he was trying to prove his trustworthiness to her, they often sat alone like this.

Zeus extended his hand and ran a finger down her cheek, gratified when she did not flinch away from him as she could have. As she probably should have with the memory of his past behavior sharp in her mind. The bruise had long since vanished but the memory burned sharply upon his own hand.

And in his mind, he hoped the shame of it would never depart.

For he feared if it did, he truly would become the oppressor his mother saw in his future. That he would become as monstrous as his father had been towards all, especially the undeserving innocents, those he kept trapped in order to remain in his place.

"I'm sorry. No matter what happened, I should never have hit you."

"No," she slowly agreed, slightly unnerved by his stillness. Zeus was like the thunder and lightening he commanded, always with the energy running beneath the surface of his calm. This gentle side of him was unknown to her. Had Métis ever seen this side to his personality? It would explain why the goddess of good counsel had wed him, though she had to have had some understanding of his true character.

She certainly had no illusions about him, though she fell under his spell at last. "No," she repeated. "You shouldn't have. But I shouldn't have been so deliberately cruel. My words were uncalled for. I'm sorry."

They fell silent again, just sitting together. "When you look at yourself, what do you see?" he asked after a time, his thumb stroking her face as he turned to look at her again.

"I guess it depends on what you mean," she slowly answered, seeking the trap in his query. As always with Zeus, it was the unspoken that caught you more than what he said. His questions were terrible double edged swords, she'd never known them to be anything less.

Yet, it was rather difficult when he was soothing her. Even when they had spoken of her grief over Philon, he'd been distant. The touch upon her face was soft, gentle, seeking nothing from her and offering her solace. And his touch usually had the affect of making her melt into a puddle at his feet rather than be comforted by it. He'd never touched her in a way that was actually comforting.

Whether it was because he didn't think he needed to – or that he didn't know how to – she didn't know. It was some thing she'd never asked about.

For even during those times of her greatest distress and need, he'd been distant in his touches. The pangs of childbirth would have been easier to bear had he been with her, had held her hand. It wasn't as if she hadn't called – _screamed_ – for him. That she hadn't _needed_ him to grant her some of his great strength. For all the great gifts being a goddess had endowed her with, childbirth was still the same painful process for her as it was for a mortal woman.

And he hadn't been there for her.

That was the first time the idea that he only wanted her in his bed and as an adornment for his arm had returned to her. As always, he'd held part of himself back from her. It shouldn't have been such as surprise to her that he was withdrawn. Even during their courtship, all of his touches had been with seduction in mind.

The fact that she had held out for as long as she had was a testament to her hard won self-respect, something she'd lost throughout the years. Without meaning to, he seemed to have sucked it from her. Thankfully, though she'd feared that she'd lose it again once she'd fallen into his arms, she hadn't. And she wouldn't surrender it again easily.

She could – possibly – get used to this behavior from him.

If she could see that it would become a constant thing that was. But she doubted that it ever would be, there was something more to his behavior tonight. He was Zeus, changeable and unpredictable, always becoming something else, something less static. It was one of the reasons for his affairs, he couldn't contain all of his energy.

Zeus' eyes never wavered from her own. "I see you. I have always seen you with me, no one else."

Hera gasped, her hand twitching towards him reflexively. No words came to mind as she stared at him, wishing to find words to return his affection – his truth. For there was no way she could deny what he said, no way she could deny that it was truth.

For the first time, she saw something in his eyes other than naked need for her – or anger at her actions. His deep eyes burned into hers, conveying a message – a plea – to look further. To see beyond the deep passion – whether for good or ill – that had always been there.

Now, the genuine love he held for her shone brightly, she felt shriven and gasping at its depths.

He saved her from replying by placing a finger on her trembling lips. "I visited Mother Rhea and she made me think about a few things, namely why I keep coming back to you when I stray frequently. She pointed out that you don't need to actually be on Olympus to fulfill your duties to me and to your worshippers."

"She's," Hera had to stop speaking and lick her lips, trying to free them from the dry feeling that awkwardly clung to them. "She's good at that." It was one of the few reasons that Hera rarely visited her mother, feeling that she'd somehow disappointed her.

Zeus nodded in agreement, shivering just a bit in pleasure as her breath, as the tip of her tongue, brushed the back of his finger as she spoke despite its presence. "She asked me about our latest argument. She told me that I needed to do some thinking because she was worried.

"It made her fear that I may be turning more and more into the same kind of being Kronus was, mindlessly cruel and seeking only after my welfare. She laid a challenge before me to prioritize what it was I really needed and wanted from you, pointing out that you were supposed to be a partner, not a possession."

Her hand rose to move his hand aside, twisting their fingers together. "I'm sorry?" she sounded truly apologetic for something she had no control over. But felt bad about anyway.

A bitter laugh escaped him at the sound. It didn't surprise him, though he wished it had. That tone had often been in her voice after a fight. It was a sound he really was beginning to hate. "I'm not. I needed to hear it. Do you know how long it's been since I told you that I loved you?"

Hera winced, not liking his deprecating tone. "A little bit of time." It was hesitantly spoken for she knew when it had been. She knew the exact moment down to the very second that he stopped saying he loved her, that he even liked her.

"Over four hundred years," his voice was sharp, as if he couldn't imagine that it had really been that long since he'd said anything to her. Affairs with mortals and immortals alike, he'd always told her that he loved her – and wasn't sarcastic about it either. Because despite the constant presence of his affairs, he did love her.

That love had not dimmed one wit, even if it had become lost over time. "I've been with you for over eighteen hundred years, yet I haven't told you lately what I feel. Telling you that I want you or that you drive me crazy is not the same thing at all."

His other hand now rose to trace soft circles on her cheek, half aware that he was driving her crazy and half not caring about it. He had to touch her, had to feel her skin under his own. It was all that made their talk real. Words were useful but lacked the immediacy, the reality of touch. He'd always been a very tactile person and this was no different, though he knew that he should remove the stimulus from this arena.

If they were to redefine their relationship, if he was to salvage anything of his marriage, they should be dealing as equals, not as subject and king. And he knew after several days of reflection that keeping this marriage, that keeping Hera was the most important thing he had to do.

She was his wife in the eyes of the world. The Queen of the Heavens. The Goddess of women through all stages of their life. The goddess who protected children. The Goddess of marriage and all it entailed.

But to him, she was more than all of that. She was his very _soul_.

In recent centuries, he'd lost sight of that because of their constant battles, their inability to connect, but it was no less true. Had he felt otherwise, he wouldn't have wasted all that time trying to woo her. Challenge though she had been, a man's ego could only take so much rejection before moving on.

While true that she was faithful and devout to their vows, he also knew that should he ask, she would release him from them. It was a sad testament to him of her devotion for him that she would put his needs and wants first. That she, out of respect and love for him, would sacrifice herself and retire, become a minor part of the Pantheon should it be what he most wanted.

And he _didn't_ want it, no matter what. Losing her would cost him too much. What he wanted was what he had back in the early days of their courtship, of their marriage. He wanted his best and dearest friend back, the one he could be a child with. He wanted to know her again as she was now. He wanted to know that when he held her in his arms at night, she only thought of him – that she wasn't thinking about leaving.

He just wanted the most beautiful creature he'd ever laid eyes upon back into his life.

"In your defense, I stopped saying it myself," she quietly said, trying to give him a way out. Inside, she knew where he was going and she knew that she had to stop it before it reached the point of no return. They could not be having this conversation, not when she had a secret that she feared to tell him because of his reaction.

"You cannot say what you no longer feel," he replied sadly. "I have your loyalty, Hera. That was something I never had to question. And I've often had your body. But I don't think I ever really had your love. Did I."

It was not a question but a statement of fact.

They had never really gotten to know each other for he wanted her desperately with little regard for his wife. Zeus had seen Hera even through his love of Métis. His other affairs had disappeared from memory as though they'd never happened.

Not so with Hera for she had burned in his mind, remained the whole time. Her very being had been a fire in his soul even the centuries of being together could not quench. Had seen her and loved her for her fire, her unusual beauty, and for the fact that she resisted his advances.

She, unlike all the others, had held out – still held out though she was certainly passionate in his arms. And it was driving him crazy, this wanting to know the truth of this woman who'd consumed his very soul. He'd even resorted to trickery for it had often worked with other women. Not so with Hera – though he knew everyone thought that he'd won her heart when he turned into the cuckoo she'd cradled near her breast.

While the storm had not been of his doing, it was something that had allowed him to get close to her. It was commonly believed that he'd seduced her that night. It had certainly been a possibility for he knew of no other way to get into her blood as she had entered his own. To his delighted shame, she'd seen right through it before he could change – and trapped him.

His clever, bewitching Hera had seen right through his masquerade and had gone about protecting herself with the same fervor as she used to use to protect him in battle. None of his other lovers – even those who knew of his ability to change his form – had ever been so ingenious as to use it against him.

And those who knew him, who knew of his roving eye, wondered why he stayed with her when it would be so much more peaceful if he let her go.

Only upon receiving his oath upon the River Styx that he would keep his hands to himself as they waited out the storm together had she allowed him to return to his true form. Going even farther to add before he realized what he swore that he would refrain from seducing her before she came to him of her own free will.

She'd thought to disenchant him from her.

She'd succeeded only in enchanting him further.

Hera was silent, wondering how to answer that statement that should have been a question.

It seemed that this was a night for soul bearing and she yielded to his will. "Not in the beginning for my heart had never belonged or been claimed by another – and you wanted all of me. You succeeded as the years went on, my lord. I've never been able to shake you and the affect you have on my mind, my body, and my soul."

These words would have pleased him had he been in any other frame of mind. Now, they felt sour in his hearing. "But you've never loved me because you wanted to. I thrust myself into your world, moved over and through you like a torrential thunderstorm, and passed on once I had left my mark upon you."

Hera gasped. "Can you know so little of me and my feelings for you that you would think so little of all that we've been to each other? That you would think that all you are is a destruction upon my life? A blight that needs fixing, covering over? Oh, Zeus," she paused, trying to find words to soothe him without alienating him.

It would be the finest line she'd ever had to walk.

"Then you will have to explain it to me, Hera. Somehow, I seem to have lost that which meant the most to me. I know that I have not been the most devoted or loving of husbands, but I did not think I was bad. And I've made mistakes," he admitted. "So, explain to me why I am not some kind of plight upon you that needs redressing?"

"You make it sound as though you have brought me only pain," she said, truly shocked by his words and attitude. _What had happened to Zeus to make him doubt himself so much_? "And I cannot deny it, but you have brought me an incredible amount of joy and bliss. In more ways than just our children – and in freeing me from Kronus."

"Ah, yes. Kronus, the only reason for your dreams of me," he bitterly said.

Hera finally snapped, jerking away from him. "Would you stop putting words into my mouth, you obnoxious bull? I'm trying to tell you what I feel and you jump before I can explain. Yes, Kronus is the reason I dreamed of you. If we had grown up together, I hardly think we'd be having this talk. We would know each other, there would be no fear of abandonment in either of our hearts. You say that you want me to explain and then refuse to let me."

Getting up, she paced the room. "I went away because I felt lost and confused. I told you that. I felt imprisoned by feelings that I couldn't control any longer – and I didn't want to hate you. Hating you would have wounded me in the worst possible manner. To do that would have been like hating the part of me that I needed to live, to breath.

"And I felt trapped inside the vindictive soul that I was becoming. Trapped by my unending anger towards your infidelities because I love you, dolt, not only because of wounded pride. I love you so much that it feels that when I am not with you, I cannot function.

"My husband, do you not see how you constantly turning away from me, how being with other women has made me feel ugly? Unworthy? You used to think I was beautiful – and it always showed. I was hurt when you turned to other goddesses but I could accept it for they were like me.

"But then you turned to mortals and I couldn't help but feel as though I lacked something. I'd look at them and then at myself, seeing only that I was not flawed. That was the only thing I could think of for your reason to stray to mortals. I thought that you were infatuated with the ideal of imperfection.

"Imperfection," she bitterly laughed, "That is something that a goddess can never be. And you seemed to want that more and more, turning to them more than I. The only drought between us physically that you can remember is forty-six years. It's been far longer than that. I tried everything I could think of to hold onto your affection, you attention, and it was all for naught. You turned to them.

"When you first came after me, subtly courted me, I could only think you were joking. Though married to a smart and lovely being, you were bored. Unused to peace, you needed a distraction of the kind you weren't getting from anyone else. You'd already bedded Demeter and got her with child, why not lonely little Hera? So, you came after me with undeniable passion but you weren't what I wanted. I was still adjusting to freedom and was trying to find my place. I didn't want your distraction and became known as the _icy goddess of Olympus_.

"Beautiful, deadly, untouchable. I thought it was sport to you. I was not foolish enough to think that I would be unlike your other conquests even after Métis' death. I didn't want to be a notch you checked off of goddesses you'd bedded and left.

"And yet, you persisted. For three hundred years you chased me, pursued me until I began to believe that you were sincere in your courtship. Began to believe that it was me you really wanted, not just a warm and willing body to replace Métis as your wife. Stay!" she ordered him, seeing him start to rise. If he stopped her now, she would never be able to say all that she wanted to. "You wanted to hear this, so you will listen.

"I remember the day I started to fall for you as though it happened yesterday. We were sitting by the lake, just reminiscing and you made me laugh till the tears ran down my face and my sides hurt from the exertion. I'd never laughed like that, so freely before and it made me remember being in Kronus' belly. We were talking about what our plans were when we got out. They had some plans – even _**Hades**_ did – but I had none. I only remember saying that I knew I would find a place to belong when I found someone who made me laugh. It seemed such a tiny thing to our siblings, something so ridiculous but I knew that if I could laugh, I would find the one who made me feel protected.

"I would find my safe haven. You gave me laughter that day, Zeus. Do you remember? Do you remember how I fled to Argos, fearing the love that was growing inside of my heart for the one I knew that I shouldn't have? You came after me, with flowers and an apology, thinking you must've done something to upset me. I remember staring at you and realizing that it was too late. I was lost in you.

"You made me so happy when you tried to understand the things that I liked. Though greatly frustrated, you tried to help me. I loved that side of you that taught me to play in the sand. No one had ever given any of us permission to be children and while the others didn't need it, you knew that I did and gave me the go ahead to be a kid.

"And when I finally agreed to be your wife, though the moment was so intense that I was willing to give you everything you wanted, you stopped us. You wanted to wait, knowing that it would mean more to me if my first time was on our wedding night. I knew that I would always be yours because you cared enough to want that with me.

"After the ceremony, when I was so tired that I could barely remain awake, you showed such patience with me. You just held me and let me sleep in your strong arms. I remember waking up, still held in them and seeing your eyes, so beautiful and so full of love – love aimed solely at me, I knew that I'd truly found my place as my sisters and my brothers had found theirs. For me, you would always be home.

"I can't blame you for your affairs when I know how tempestuous you can be. What I never realized was that some of the reasons behind them were because I've let you down several times. I lost my way to pride and anger, tried to replace you, all the while knowing it was wrong. You're the only choice to rule over us. Once I recalled who you really were, I tried so hard to be the queen you needed me to be. Wise and calm, full of support, I tried to turn a blind eye. But it wasn't my way and I couldn't hide who I was, hence the suffering I caused your lovers and children.

"I SAID STAY!" she yelled. As though to warn him away from her, her arms extended and she stepped back.

Zeus froze and then sank back down into the seat. He watched her resume her pacing, watched her steps become more erratic and uneven. His arms ached to hold her, to let her weary head rest upon his chest as he defeated these demons of hers. When he asked for the truth, he hadn't expected this. Hadn't expected her to lambast herself in such a way, taking all the blame upon herself for the failure of their union.

He should have. It had always been upon her that blame fell, why should she think any differently?

"Even through all of the lies, the plots, the affairs, the children you brought home and expected me to raise them, I loved you. I felt safe, wanted, and desired by you, but never fully fulfilled. There's always been a part of you that has been locked away, taunting me with the thought that I never really belonged by your side. That uncertainty, that fear that you would leave me, has always been there. It has made me more vicious towards others than I should be.

"That shut door isn't only on you for I've had my own door closed. I've never let you know how scared I was. How shattered I felt knowing that my own father didn't want me to exist. Having a husband who only seemed to want me around every once in a while and only when it was convenient to have a wife, reminded me of that. The affairs and the children were just obvious signs that I was not what you really wanted. And, instead of trying to talk to you about it, I shut you out.

"I guess I didn't want you to be ashamed of me. Of my childish fears," she sighed, not seeing the shock in his eyes at her words.

"It wasn't until I lived as a mortal that I began to understand how fragile life can be. How easily a relationship can shatter under the pressure of expectations. You saved us from Kronus. It was a role I thought you would always fill, saving me. I made you into this omniscient being who knew what I needed, when I needed it without ever saying a word to you because you were supposed to know. I expected you to save me from my unspoken fears when only I could rescue myself. Once I came to terms with that, I found peace within myself. I almost came home.

"And then I got to truly know my neighbor Philon.

"He was different from other mortals. There were times when he reminded me of you because he could make me laugh until tears came into my eyes. We became good friends. I was present at his daughter's wedding. It went on until all hours of the night, dancing and singing. Not to mention the drinking," she smiled softly, remembering it. "I think her husband was rather appalled by the way everyone was acting."

"Philon?" Zeus took the chance to hint after the man. There was something vaguely familiar about the name but he couldn't quite place it.

"He saved my life from those attackers," Hera reminded him and was quiet for a moment. Thinking about her next words carefully, she finally decided that she couldn't live in fear any longer. "And was the reason I didn't want to come home. I've only ever loved two men in my whole life, Zeus. You and him. Though I do not feel ashamed for the love I shared with him, I felt unworthy to be your wife. We were together for ten years before his death.

"He never knew," she took a deep breath and slowly let it out, "that I was your wife. Even though I let you know where I was, I had already made my decision to leave Olympus behind. I told Hermes I would not be returning and heard nothing. I thought that you were all right with my choice, never dreaming that you didn't know.

"We were so happy and then I found out that I was four months pregnant. When he died, I intended to raise our child alone. Then Hermes returned and I reiterated my message, never expecting you to show up at my home. I knew looking upon the naked emotions on your face that I had been foolish in thinking that I could _**ever**_ be without you. But that it is no longer possible.

"Now that you know of my adultery, I shall leave. I know you will not wish to have me around, knowing the truth." It had been a risk to tell him but she hoped she was correct in judging that Zeus would keep his word. That he would let her go without arguing.

She paused at the door, a sudden thought entering her mind and she turned to face him. For the first time, the protective mother instinct showed through. "If you lay a hand on my child's head in any way, shape, or form…if you dare to take your anger out upon him for what I did, there will be a war unlike any you have ever known. This I promise you."

With quiet dignity, she turned and walked from the room, leaving Zeus sitting in stunned silence.

Thousands of thoughts swirled through his mind with lightening speed. Anger, despair, rage, desire, love, disbelief, compassion, they all swam in his veins faster than he could process them all. He felt suffocated by the buffeting pressure of it all. All of those little things that had made no sense to him at the time had been made perfectly clear to him now. For the first time, he felt like Hera must have whenever she heard of his latest paramour or his newest child.

_Child_…

His mind worked quickly, making certain connections. When he'd gone after her, there had been no child. No sign that there had ever been one in the cottage. But her body had born familiar signs of exhaustion. There was that strange duo nature of thinness and fullness, especially around her breasts and her hips. He'd thought he recognized those signs.

Hera had often had two serpents following after her – sometimes sharing their bed no matter how many times she put them outside the door – that had been given to her by Varuna as a wedding gift. He'd hated those things for they had always been about, getting underfoot. But they had been invaluable as impartial judges in any oath taking – and oath breaking made by mortals and immortals. They'd disappeared days after Heracles had been born and had never been replaced.

Once, upon sneaking away from Alcmene's home, he'd thought he'd felt a familiar presence. He'd shrugged it off as slight guilt because she had been due to return home that week.

_And the first night he'd seen her looking so beautiful that he'd fallen in love with her all over again, she had come to ask him to interfere in the task set before his son_.

_**HER SON**_!

Rising to his feet, enraged that she had _dared_ to deceive him, he went after her. And stopped suddenly, hearing Athena's laugh. Hearing Apollo's music playing in the background. Heard the Muses and Artemis singing, with Hermes offering up an unsteady base line. Dionysius' business had obviously been concluded for he could hear him asking if anyone wanted anything else to drink and the Graces laughed gaily along with him.

All of them were his children.

Children she'd accepted into her home, even loved as though they were her own once she got past her initial hostility towards them. Once she'd gotten over the constant reminder of his infidelity that they were, he admitted. She had done as he asked and made them her own, in thought and in deed.

Turning back towards the window, he leaned his head out, breathing deeply. Below him, all of Earth slept peacefully for he'd managed to retain control of the worst of the thunder and lightening, except that which shone on the eastern side. No matter how hard he tried, one spot always remained immune and he'd finally accepted that it had to do with balance and energy placement.

In the flashing light that illuminated the entire plaza starkly, he saw Hera walking towards the stables and dread filled him. If he let her go now, he knew she'd be gone forever. Unless he wanted to risk a war with her by going after her child. And that was not something he wanted to do.

He wanted her back, not have her as an implacable enemy – and that is exactly what she would become should he go after her child.

Right or wrong her actions may have been, he hardly had the right to judge her when he'd done far worse. The world had always seen her son as his, the truth changed nothing for him. With a flash of thought, he was right behind her. As rain drenched them, he pulled her into his arms, ignoring her scream of startled surprise, and carried her inside.

"Hera," he had to lean close to her ear as the storm got louder, wilder. "Your child will be mine – and you have got to stop running from me."

"Technically, I was walking away from you," she said, trying to remain stiff in his arms. This was an outcome she hadn't expected. As a result, she hardly knew how to react. She'd been prepared to be flung off Olympus in rage, to be cursed. Part of her had even thought that there would be war for he would go after her son. Of all the things she'd thought would happen, this was not one of them.

Zeus shook his head, unable to believe that she focused on that instead of his first comment. A laugh escaped him, feeling her shiver against him with pleasure. "You really are the most aggravatingly, enchanting woman I know. Do you honestly think I'd let you just disappear from my life?"

Looking up at him, she nodded. "The thought had definitely been confirmed in my mind. Should I stay married to you after having an affair that must be kept a secret for now, I would be a hypocrite."

"Then marry me again," he shrugged, slowly lowering her to the ground.

"What?" She couldn't believe what she'd heard him say. That was his answer? That they should just get remarried?

"Marry me again," he repeated obligingly. "It may be unheard of, but when have we ever done normal? And you were right, our marriage has become something of a joke over the years. I want us to start with a clean slate. What has gone before us will always remain but I want to recommit to you."

Hera stared at him, trying to think. "I don't understand why. Surely, you would be happier married to a far more compliant woman who…"

"Wouldn't challenge me?" he interrupted. "A goddess who would just go blindly along with me just to keep the peace? Even if doing so might turn me into a despot? Hera, our marriage used to be a partnership of equals. Now, it no longer is. Don't you think it's time to return to our roots and that which made us who we really are?"

She moved away and sat down on a hay bundle, studying him. "What happened to you? I know you talked to Rhea, but this is hardly like you."

Kneeling before her, he reached up a hand and stroked her cheek. "What, you ask? A lot – starting with when you left. I felt severed from reality without you. For the most part, I could ignore the aching hollowness. Yet, I always knew something was wrong. One would have thought that I'd have been happy to be able to have affairs without you watching me all the time but I wasn't."

"The risk was more important to you than the payoff?" she shrewdly guessed, only half joking.

"I didn't say it wasn't fun, just that I wasn't happy. And then I realized that when I strayed, it was to reassure myself that you cared enough about me to notice me," he corrected. "Do you know what it's like to be married to a woman who is so self-sufficient, you feel like you're a trophy to her?"

"Funny, that's how I often felt about you," she murmured.

"Yeah, I believe you mentioned that. _When it was convenient to have a wife_," he paused, shaking his head. "Believe me, there is nothing convenient about you. I can think of several words to describe you and that is not one of them."

"Shrewish. Vindictive. Spiteful," her words were cut off by his hand covering her mouth.

His eyes snapped angrily for a moment, then visibly calmed down. He was not going to lose his temper with her and mess this up. "It's my turn to talk, Hera. So, I want you to just shut up and listen to me – not put words in my mouth, pigheaded cow of mine."

Trailing his hand down, he moved it over to rest upon her shoulder. "My first impression of you was not as a lonely being nor did I find you cold, unapproachable. To my detriment, from the first moment I held you as we both were flung from Kronus' mouth, I knew that you were the only one I wanted in my life for keeps.

"The most beautiful being I had ever seen in my entire life – even Aphrodite does not compare in my eyes to you."

He laughed bitterly, remembering the way she used to act around him. Hera had been quite unlike any female he'd ever met. "And you looked at me as though I was your liberator but never anything more than that. Even when you protected me in battle, I was nothing more to you than a comrade. I dreamed of you in my arms, my bed, and at my side.

"You only dreamed of me saving you.

"Every time I saw you, you seemed completely unaware of how I felt. You had a friendly wave for Métis or a kind smile for Demeter, shared laughter with Hestia. Hades and Poseidon were your brothers, you freely hugged them. I was your brother too and treated only as your honored king. You never once – _**not once**_ – greeted me with a warm smile.

"No, with me it was always a respectful nod or a polite bow. Always the respectful servant to the king, never the sister to the brother, never a woman to a man. Do you have any idea how that hurt?" he asked softly.

Not waiting for an answer, he continued, "I had other lovers that I will not deny, but none touched me in the same way you do. And you could care less. No matter what I tried, _**how**_ _**hard**_ I tried to get your attention, you utterly ignored me unless given no other choice. I was always the last one you turned to for advice, the last one to know of any situation you faced that put you in danger."

She winced, thinking about Porphyrion, he'd almost succeeded in capturing her because she hadn't taken his suit of her seriously. How his obsession for her had later led to an almost rape. "Did I ever thank you?"

A small smile graced his face, "Not then. I seem to recall you laughing that I was being foolish to think that the gigante was actually serious about you. You thought it was a joke. It wasn't until we fought the Gigantes that I got my thanks. If not for Heracles shooting him, I might not have noticed what he was doing until it was too late. His hands on your body, shoving you against that wall, your gown in tatters…"

"It's over, Zeus," she softly interrupted, stroking his face in comfort. It was rather strange to be the comforter when she'd been the one who'd almost been raped. "You saved me."

"But he almost succeeded because you didn't take him seriously. It never occurred to you that you might be in real danger from him. Thus, you ignored his attraction for you," he noted leaning into the hand on his face.

"I suppose I should be grateful that you've always thought more about me than I did. Even if you have an odd way of showing it," she replied sardonically. "I don't get the male mind, always single mindedly pursing that which they think is beautiful. What's the big deal?"

"If you had experimented more in your younger days, it wouldn't be such a surprise to you that the male gender wants you," he dryly commented.

"I'll take your word for it since I would prefer one person I truly loved over a thousand in my bed whom I only feel a temporary affection for. But I forgot, it's your turn to talk."

Ignoring the exaggerated reverence in her voice, he spoke on, "I could see in his eyes the same hunger I knew was burning in my own. And I hadn't even done more than carry you to earth, he didn't even get that close. Poor guy. Having seen your smile and the luminous glow of your skin…he couldn't help but wonder about how it felt. It's so exquisite that it invites long hours of touching, caressing.

"And you think I chose you because I was bored?" he couldn't help the laugh that escaped him. The sheer absurdity of her claim was charming and exasperating. "Unbelievable. No man goes through what I did out of boredom.

"But as you rightly pointed out, Métis was my wife. And a very accommodating wife she was too. Quiet, helpful, dignified, turned the other way when my eye strayed, and truly boring, though a good friend. I may have loved her, that's not something I can lie about, but she was no challenge. Métis just was. She was also one who posed a great danger to me. I suppose my reaction to Gaea's prophecy didn't help my suit any," he sighed.

"No, I can't say that helped me trust you any in matters of marriage," she agreed.

"You must understand that I was going quietly crazy for you. As a result, I was willing to take any counsel offered to me. No matter how bad or self serving it made me appear. If it helps, she approved of you for my wife. Well, once she got over the shock and hurt of betrayal. I think she always knew that we were meant to be together, that we balanced. She's always telling me that I should talk more to you. But I always thought you knew how I felt, that I never needed to say it. I guess she knew something I didn't – may be she knew that not talking to you became that closed door you mentioned.

"I may not have listened to her about that, but I sure listened when she counseled me to listen more to your personal tastes, to what you loved. To even pay attention to the little things – like daisies. Do you know how hard it is to find daisies? They aren't native to our country. But I wanted you to know that I really was sorry, though I now know that it wasn't even my fault."

"Conceited," she muttered, almost regretful that she'd told him the truth about that particular incident.

"I think I have every right to be," he replied, laughter in his voice, stroking her neck lightly. "It took me several decades to get to you and it started at that moment. But I still had to fight for you, didn't I? You were not going to make it simple for me. And I never wanted easy with you, I wanted lasting with you.

"I can clearly recall the day I knew that I no longer merely lusted after you, I loved you. We were lying on the beach, the waves lapping at our ankles. Behind us was the sand castle that we'd spent all afternoon building, talking about the heavens and the best way to heal mortals from our wars. You sat up and looked at me over your shoulder…the moonlight made you seem vulnerable, fragile, and yet, invincible.

"Queenly.

"That's when I knew I needed to step up my courtship of you. It had been two hundred and fifty years since Métis' death and far longer since I had begun to chase you. Now, I was playing for keeps. Then you disappeared on me again.

"It took me months to find out where you were hiding for this wasn't like when you fled to Argos. This time you left no trace of where you had gone. By the time I found you again, I could tell that you had started to rebuild your resistance. I disguised myself in more ways than just the cuckoo to get close to you, to learn how to get past your defenses. There was a peddler, a gardener, the wood's man, I'm not quite sure why you didn't see through those disguises. I guess it was because I wasn't using any magic. But I'm grateful that you didn't because I got to know another side of you, one that you rarely ever show to anyone.

"We'll have to go back there soon.

"I remember needing to leave, but the storm that night was sudden. I was out, flying around in the form of a bird, searching for a flower to remind you of Olympus and home. The winds drove me back to the cottage, half blind with pain. When you held me in your arms, it wasn't a lie that I was cold and sick. But I wanted more than just your momentary comfort. I wanted you – all of you. Nothing less than that would do.

"With anyone else, the disclosure of my feelings would've been enough. I should've known that you'd be stubborn. I should've remembered that you've never made it effortless for me. The one challenge I've yet to conquer. I still haven't figured out how you trapped me. I didn't think even Circe had that power," he waited, hoping she'd tell him.

A merry twinkle danced in her eyes, she shook her head, smiling. Her fingers made a gesture across her lips, their old sign of sealed lips that would never speak of their secrets, no matter what.

Giving in with a good natured shrug, he continued, "You and I talked, just talked, but I'd seen in your eyes something you couldn't hide. A softening as they looked into my own that made me decide to give it one last chance. Had I known it was going to take me another few decades to finally win you, I don't know if I could've held out. But it was well worth the wait," he softly said, a lascivious smile on his face.

"When I held you in my arms, so willing, so warm…everything came together. I had to ask, knowing that there would be no better time. I don't know who was more surprised by your affirmative answer – you or me. I knew I could've taken you and there would have been no pleas to stop, just cries for more. You will never know how hard it was for me to pull away from that tempting body of yours. To try and see things from your perspective, even now I don't know how I did it," there was a slight laugh in those words.

"I'll never forget our wedding. You were glorious. The most beautiful bride and I fell in love all over again, knowing that no one else would ever do – but that night, there were tears glistening on your cheeks. I was terrified that you'd realized it was a mistake – then you looked at me, the tiredness you were trying to hide from me in your eyes.

"I willingly accept the blame for that. Our wedding was large and lasted for several hours. You would've been quite happy with a small ceremony, only those closest to us there. But I wanted everyone and everything to know that you were finally my wife. That night…even had you not been tired, I'm not sure we would have consummated our marriage. For I only wanted to hold you in my arms throughout the night because so many of my dreams had us falling asleep after making love.

"And then I'd wake up, in a cold and lonely bed, totally alone.

"Waking up with you in my arms the next morning, I knew it was real. Finally, blessedly real. I watched you sleep, just enjoying the feel of you in my arms. It was everything I had wanted – and more. And then my dream became a nightmare. I think we can agree that we've both let each other down but I don't really believe either of us was the first one to do so.

"Nor did you let me down as often as you seem to think, though you betraying me hurt. Now, though, I can see that you were right for I was becoming more like Kronus every day. It took your actions to wake me up. We could fill a thousand nights with our hurts and still never uncover all the reasons for them. And I don't think we need to," he said, though he tilted his head in inquiry. If she felt they should talk things over, he would purge those wounds.

"No," she agreed with him. On some level, she knew that talking it over would probably do them both some good for it would clear the air. But in the ultimate end, they would be going at cross purposes that would only cause more hurt feelings. He had done what circumstances – and his own nature had asked of him. She, out of hurt and pride, had reacted badly. Too many innocents had suffered because of her misguided anger. "It would serve no purpose for we would never agree on who was right or wrong. Or even why they happened," she added thoughtfully.

"Exactly," he was silent for a moment, looking at her, thinking about everything that had gone wrong. And all the things that had gone right for them. "I never meant to make you feel as though you were ugly. Over the years, I guess it just became easier to not say the words. I thought you knew how beautiful you are to me and didn't need to hear me say it. And I'm won't try to justify my affairs – there is no validation for them. It would be an insult to your intellect to try. Can you find it within you to give us another chance? I may not always be faithful but I will always be yours."

Hera stared at him, trying to think rationally. A bubble of happiness welled up within her, making it hard to thin even though she tried to contain it. After eons of silence, he was saying all the right things. But did she really want this? Did she think they could make this work? She loved him – always would – for it was her nature to love deeply, truly, forever. While she'd often wondered about him, she could see now that she was wrong. For his eyes spoke of the same love.

And, contrary to what appearances said, she never lost trust in him. Faith, yes. Trust, no. That was something that had come as naturally to her as transforming had. No matter what arguments they may have or the divisions that sometimes came between them, she knew Zeus would always be there for her. They didn't always agree on everything, but they agreed on the important things.

"Please, Hera," he whispered, stroking her face gently. In his memory, he didn't think he'd ever left anything concerning them so completely in her hands. This was the first time but would not be the last. If he wanted this to work, it _couldn't_ be the last. "Help me. I'm in way over my head with this. I can't go it alone. There's no way I can be me without you for I find that I am lost within the perception of the omniscient god mortals see."

A great deal of shock filled for she realized that he was telling the truth – to be Zeus, he needed her.

Biting her lip, she leaned forward, sliding off the hay stack and almost into his arms. Knee to knee, they stared at each other, the lightening outside occasionally illuminating the area with austere vividness. "Are you completely sure of this, Zeus?" she whispered, heart opened fully to him once again. As scared as she was, she couldn't _not_ take this chance to be wholly his again. "Don't play with my heart if you can't take care of it."

"I could say the same of you, my darling," he replied, pulling off the veil that covered her hair from sight. With careful hands, he scattered the pins binding it back around them. Her beautiful hair, no longer confined, spilled about them in silken waves and he wrapped strands around his fingers to hold her in place.

Momentarily before setting her free. "You could easily break me, I'm trusting you not to."

The storm raged wildly outside as they sat there, staring at each other. Daring each other to take that first step forward. Until Hera realized with some trepidation and a great deal of surprise that he was waiting for her to take the lead in this. He really wanted them to start anew – and that meant with her choosing to accept him.

Or rejecting him utterly.

Taking a deep breath, she pulled away from his touch. From the hand that cradled her head so gently and stood up, brushing down her skirt. He looked up at her, shock and sadness in his eyes, resignation to accept this decision as well. Holding out her hand, she smiled down at him, shyly. "I offer you my heart in my hand, my body for your use, and my life to join with your own as your wife, if you should so desire it."

Accepting her hand, he rose to his feet. Smiling down at her in relief, his voice only trembled slightly as he gave utterance to his feelings. "I offer you my soul to merge with your own, my body to protect you for as long as you should need it, and my kingdom to be your own as your husband, if you should so desire it."

"For as long as we are allowed to exist," she added. It was a version of the mortals addendum of _until death do us part_.

Shaking his head, a genuine smile curved his lips. "For so long as we love, we will always be."

The lightening outside and the thunder seemed to bear witness to their reunion. "You can be such a sap," she said, shaking her head.

"Only with you," he replied, admitting to the truth he'd often kept inside.

Hera suddenly pushed him up against the wall, "You once asked if I thought about making love on a throne," she purred in his ear. "The answer is only with you."

And then she kissed him as she'd often thought of doing but never had the courage to do so, fearing he'd be disgusted by the depth of her passion. Always in the past, she'd held something back from him. Even upon returning to his bed and his arms, she'd been reserved. Mostly alive but aloof in his arms.

Yet, the closest he'd come to being with the real her had been on that first night.

No longer would she hide behind that modest perception of what she should be. Starting that night, she was going to be exactly who she was. If he walked out, so be it. This was not the kiss of a shy girl to her suitor. Nor that of a docile wife submitting to her husband. But one from a woman to her lover, asking and demanding an answer of equal or greater fervor.

To say he was startled was putting it mildly.

But he was right there with her, reeling under the passion momentarily before diving in with her, pushing her further than he'd ever tried to before. Zeus gripped her hips and jerked her until she was totally on top of him, knowing there would be bruises come morning – and not caring. He could feel her nails digging into him, knowing that he was going to have scratches and reveled in the knowledge

This was a claiming of her as she was claiming him. He gloried in her possession of him. This was the fire he'd always suspected was there, had barely touched, and had wanted more of.

The robe she'd been wearing as well as his tunic joined her veil on the floor.

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_Author's Note #2 : Yes, I changed the timing of their courtship and the whole cuckoo thing - but I'd like to think that Hera wasn't that fooled by him. I mean, she held him off for three hundred years and then she falls for his disguise? And he rapes her but they somehow find a love that defies the ages? A love so strong it carries them through their arguments and his adultery? I just don't buy it, so I changed it. Also, I think some of his reasons for his straying could be a way of trying to keep her attention. It seems to me that he got bored fast with the women he got involved with that Hera ignored, the same with his children. Hope everyone is all right with these changes_.


	9. The Morning After, Then Troy Happened

_Author's Note : Thanks so much for the support and the reviews. I love them. Hope you enjoy this part. Next part, Heracles and Hera get to talk again. So, we'll see how that evolves._

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The morning light streamed into the stable, blinding Hera though her eyes were closed. Slowly stretching as she woke up, she moaned in pain and contentment. Tingles of pleasure still danced along her nerves, a contended smile crossed her face as last night's loving returned to her mind. The feel of the hay scratched against her sensitized naked skin.

_Naked_?

The realization had her jerking upright in startled surprise, eyes flying open at the familiar chuckle of amusement to her left. Taking stock of her situation, she turned to look over at Zeus, taking in the smile of utter and total satisfaction. She also noted the banked lust still in his eyes and couldn't believe that he wanted more after all they'd done. The outfit he had worn mingled with hers about them, not quite in scraps but certainly not wearable any longer. His body had marks and bites all over, unhealed as though he was proud to bear them.

Realizing that if she could see herself, her body would wear the same kind of marks. She dropped her head into her hands, embarrassed as she realized that they'd spent the whole night in the stable – most of the time making love. Anyone could've entered the room and they wouldn't have noticed a thing.

She had behaved with such wild abandonment, she was surprised the stable still stood for the lightening that was his birthright, he'd often shared it with her. The floor certainly had a few scorch marks from the lightening that usually only tingled constantly against her skin whenever he lost control over himself in the heat of the moment. She had never expected to push him that much.

"I don't suppose I need to ask what happened last night," her voice slightly muffled by her hands.

Another chuckle escaped him as his hand ran up her back in soothing circles. It was utterly beyond him why she'd be so embarrassed about doing what came naturally. Though he supposed it could have been the location. Whenever they made love, it was always in their bedroom.

That was something he was definitely going to have to change. Because there were a few places he wanted to make love to her, starting with her garden. The green of the grass against her red hair was a sight he'd often dreamed about but never thought to see in real life. And perhaps a picnic on the beach that ended up with her as the dessert.

Or may be him, he wasn't sure he cared which.

"If you do, I must have done something wrong." His voice lowered, husky with passion, "I could always try to get it right this time."

Pushing himself up, he leaned over her and enfolded her in a hug, though he was completely aware of the glare she sent him through her fingers. She was deliciously shy with him and gloriously his once again, but it felt more real and permanent this time than it had before. For the first time, he felt complete and whole, no longer afraid of losing her.

She may have had another lover, but she would never have another love of that he was certain.

"You don't need to look so smug," she retorted, voice muffled. Her body curved back into his, relishing the skin on skin contact. While her mind may have been ashamed – or at the very least inhibited about their actions – her body found no reason to be either. This was where she wanted to be, where she was always meant to be. "You behaved shamefully."

"And you enjoyed every moment of it, darling," he whispered. His hands ran through the locks, pulling out bits and pieces of hay. "There is no need to be ashamed of taking what you wanted. In case it escaped your notice, I wanted you to take it. Take all of it. You were quite a revelation, Hera."

"I was quite brazen," she refuted.

His hand curled around the base of her head and cupped it, tilting it up to face him, "Deliciously, wondrously, wanton, - and completely loved. Last night was amazing," he murmured, eyes focused on her swollen lips. Not even thinking twice, he kissed her as he often dreamed of doing, as he'd done several times after their talk, and enjoyed her quick response.

Her hands stroked his bare skin before moving to his shoulders. Moaning lightly, she scratched his skin, re-marking his skin before remembering something. Tensing, she broke away and breathed deep, trying to be the sane one. "We can't do this."

"We can't?" he repeated, more amused than anything else by her words. Especially considering what they had done last night – more specifically, what she had done. He wouldn't be able to look at the wall the same way again. Even now, desire to have her again filled him, perhaps a bit slower than they had all night though. Had he ever been so taken, so thoroughly owned by anyone?

No, he hadn't because only with Hera could such a thing occur.

It wasn't merely because she was his wife, it was because he completely loved her. That he now knew that she loved him with all that she was. He knew that he could freefall over the edge to the dark chasm below – or soar to the pinnacle above where the stars faded into darkness. She would be there with him, taking care of him as she always did.

It was implicit that she'd never hurt him first.

As such, he was resolved that any affairs he had in the future would all be – with her. Though he knew she'd never believe it should he tell her, he planned to spend the rest of eternity proving it to her. "We're married, Hera, it's perfectly legal."

"That is not what I mean," she huffed, dropping her hands to cross under her breasts. "Ares will be here in a few minutes to take his daily morning ride. I don't want to get caught by him like this."

A slow, wicked smile curved his face.

There was something about the idea of that risk that made him even more reckless. Not that he really wanted to be caught – especially by Ares. The boy may have been his but he was not one that he particularly liked – to much like himself if he had to be honest. But the fact that the risk was there made taking a chance even more exciting. "Then you'll just have to be quiet. Think of this as an exercise in self control."

He pulled her down with him, absolutely surprised when she rolled him over and pinned his arms above his head. Her body rested against his, completely fitting his as none other ever had. Would this woman never cease to enchant him? To beguile and elude him all the while remaining completely and solely his – with a few acceptable exceptions?

"I've never been the one with self-control issues, Zeus," she breathed into his ear, shifting just a little and eliciting a groan from him as her soft and supple skin brushed and pulled against his own.

"That's always been you," she nipped his ear before straightening up and looking down at him, a devious twinkle in her eye. Both were completely aware that he could break free at any time. It wouldn't have taken much effort at all.

But he was curious to see how far she would push this.

Hera herself wondered if she dared to go any farther. Even with all she had done that night, she'd never even tried to tease him like this. Looking down at him, she thought about what he'd said. What she'd said – and then what they had done.

She was totally aware of her power over him, this strange ability she had to make him hers with just a few words or well placed looks. It was strangely enervating – and scary – this power of a woman over a man.

"_Hera_," he pleaded, her body's gentle motions subtly driving him crazy. She wasn't really even doing anything more than breathing. And stretching in such a way to remind him of her supple body. The way she rested on top of him, her hair a kind of cover for them, every part of him was fully aware of her. "Either make a decision or I'll…"

Without letting him finish his words, she took his lips with hers, loving them. Ravishing them, claiming them utterly as her property – if only for this rare moment in time. "Hush, Zeus," the order was husky, more than a little breathy when they parted. "And let me take care of you. I thought this morning you wanted to take it slow," she drew the word out, watching as his pupils dilated.

He groaned, "You really will kill me."

She laughed, low in her throat. An almost evil sound, the only reply to his comment.

Inside the palace, Aphrodite looked up from the table where she sat with Eros, talking things over. Ares walked through the room, heading for the stables. "I wouldn't if I were you," she warned, half not caring. With his attitude towards her ending their affair, she wouldn't mind shocking him. He almost deserved it after his remarks towards and about Hephaestus.

But it really wasn't worth it in the end.

"Well, I'm not you. And I'm almost an hour late thanks to _**dad's**_ late night light show," he snapped, leaving. Seeing her in the morning light, with her hair mussed up and lips swollen with the kisses he used to give and receive, made him want her all over again. And he knew that it wasn't possible.

She'd found some kind of happiness with that freak of a god, Hephaestus. Not only that, but she had become boringly _faithful_ to him. Even with the birth of the child the fates said she must have with a mortal in order to save a race of mortals had they faltered. There was some uncertainty, some stumbling but somehow they had weathered it, coming out of it stronger. They had managed to keep their marriage alive and happy.

Shaking her head, she wished that he'd get over his hurt. He'd never really loved her like she needed. Nor had she loved him like she knew he needed to be loved.

And she really hoped that he could handle strong shocks. Turning back to Eros, she waved off his questions. It actually surprised her that he didn't know what was going on. Surely being with that Psyche hadn't hurt his lustful senses that much. Of course, the girl had been a _mortal_ with all that such a state entailed.

Did they even understand the joy of lovemaking outside the bedroom? She hoped that the twit girl would learn otherwise Eros would become bored with her. And, as much as she hated that girl, she couldn't allow a true love match to suffer that much.

Well, she couldn't let her son suffer at the hands of a jealous bride. "If you don't know, I'm not telling you. So, can I leave my Temples and followers in your hands for a few weeks?"

"Of course, mom. You know that you can trust me to do the best for your worshippers. But I don't get it. Why are you going away with Hephaestus? Isn't it just some blacksmith convention he's been invited to? Doesn't he get invites to thousands of them?"

"No, my darling son, it _**isn't just**_ some convention. This is a ceremony to celebrate my husband. I plan to be there with him," she snapped, feeling him walking towards them from the forge. All anger fled at his touch upon her mind, filling her with the still new joy of being in love – and being loved.

Eros almost frowned. What was up with his mother anyway? She'd never acted half so weird with her other lovers, though Adonis had come close. Certainly, she'd never followed after Ares when he'd gone off to war. At least, not if she had a choice. Or with Hermes on his longer journeys and he knew for sure that Hermes had invited her along.

Even Apollo had never been so favored as to have her company whenever he had long visits to Delphi.

"Does he even know that you're planning on coming with him?" he asked her, sensing there might be trouble if he did not. While true that he had nothing against the god he called stepfather, he didn't understand why she was spending more time with him. None of his siblings were any help either for they had been mostly raised by Hephaestus. As such, they regarded him as their true father.

Hephaestus walked in at that precise moment, nodding at Eros. "Good morning, Eros. Aphrodite," his voice low with delight.

"Hephy, how many times do I have to tell you that it's 'Dite to you," she scolded as she rose to join him, brushing off his shirt. "You haven't had your bath," she huskily added, "Need some help?"

Blushing, he stammered, "I just came in to say good morning. I didn't mean to interrupt your meeting with Eros."

"Oh, we can discuss this any time," she waved it off. "See you later, Eros." She pulled Hephaestus after her.

"Bye," he replied, totally and completely aware that she had not answered his question. What did she see in that guy any way? Not being a rugged warrior, he didn't match her type of lover – both mortal and immortal. One only had to look at her centuries long love affair with Ares for proof of that.

Of course, Psyche could be right about her learning to care about what they didn't see. Titans only knew that his little sister Harmonia loved him beyond all reason. Even after his gift had ended up bringing more harm than good to her family, she had cared for him until her dying day.

But why had she even tried? Last he'd heard, she couldn't stand the way he looked and forget having him touch her. In order to become full husband and wife, she had to let him do a bit more than just touch her.

And after what he'd seen, he knew that there was a lot of lust between the two – and a great deal of love.

"Morning, Athena," her arrival brought him sharply from his thoughts. And he wasn't sure if he should be grateful or not.

She covered her yawn, nodding at him as she went over to the side board. Their usual display of food and warmed nectar teasing her senses to further awaken. On an ordinary day, that would've helped but this was far from a normal morning for her. "Morning, Eros. Father Zeus was certainly active last night, wonder how Hera angered him this time. Though it didn't sound that angry," she mused, shaking off the thought that something had gone wrong between them and the hope that it wasn't so.

She rather liked the calm between them. "I don't think I got more than a few hours of rest with all of that thunder and lightening going on," she finished as she sat in her usual chair. The one to the left of Zeus'.

"I thought you'd gone down to see Heracles," Artemis said, entering the room. Apollo right at her heels, looking around covertly. Neither of them saw anything or anyone amiss – it was the lack of a certain woman that worried them. They exchanged puzzled looks, knowing that Zeus and Hera had been talking instead of celebrating.

Was it possible that he knew?

Athena nodded, "I did. But that girl is not as stupid as her past actions painted her as being which I will admit was a blessed relief. It was merely a matter of pointing them in the right direction."

"Where's Hera?" Apollo asked, deciding to get it over with. "Isn't she always here before us?"

"And Zeus? He's always right behind her lately," Artemis added. Grabbing a cup of nectar, she sat at her usual place in the center of the table and leaned back, studying the faces around her to see any sign of knowing. Or even suspicion about what she and her brother were privileged to know.

Well, more Apollo than her since she hadn't had a moment to talk to Hera. She wasn't entirely sure she was going to for that required reserves of courage she wasn't sure she had. Peaceable though their relationship was now, she wasn't quite sure how to act around her.

Apollo sat across from her, a plate of fruit in front of him. As usual for his morning fare, he drank water. Nectar was something he reserved for evening functions, preferring to have his mind totally clear for the day's activities.

Eros blinked, suddenly realizing what his mother had been implying earlier. While he hadn't been above a few exhibitions before he became a respectable, married god – and knew quite well that Zeus was quite randy in his sexual endeavors, he hadn't thought that Hera would be convinced to try something so risky.

She was so…so…prudish.

There was just no way she'd be convinced into an act of exhibitionism, especially when she knew that Ares always went riding at this hour. As they had yet to hear horrified yelling, he thought that he had to be imagining it. There had to be another reason for them not being at the breakfast table. Just because he just couldn't think of one rational answer did not mean that there wasn't one.

"She wasn't in here when mother and I arrived," he admitted. "Come to think of it, I didn't see her at all last night when Psyche and I arrived. Thank you, Athena, for such a warm welcome."

"It wasn't my idea to combine the two parties into one," she mumbled, closing her eyes. She really wished she could wake up but for once in her life, she had indulged in one of Dionysius' special brews. Having heard of the girl, she'd thought she'd need that liquid courage.

Now, she was regretting it because it hadn't helped her out – and Zeus' light show hadn't allowed her to rest once she had concluded her quick visit. "But you deserved it after being gone for almost a century and missing out on all the fun."

"Yes, about that," he paused. "What exactly has been happening around here?"

"Would you like a list?" Zeus' voice asked from the doorway, his arm securely around Hera's waist. Dark hair blowing about his face, the familiar predatory gleam in his eye…it was quite apparent to them that he'd had an eventful night – and morning.

In contrast to him, she looked utterly and completely composed. No wrinkle marred her dress and her perfectly coiffed hair was covered by her veil. But there was a look of happiness and contentment in her eyes that had never been seen by them in centuries.

Actually, none of those in the room had ever seen it, save Apollo.

And it had not been directed towards the man whose arm held her now. Tilting his head in query, he was gratified to see a smile of acknowledgment cross her face. He did wonder if she told Zeus the truth about Heracles but dismissed the idea for Olympus was still standing.

Zeus wouldn't have tolerated her straying from him.

"No," Eros said, completely flummoxed that his mom had been right. There was no way he could deny that they had the afterglow of fervent and wild sex about them. Just what _had_ been going on around here without him? And did that mean he was now redundant? "That's quite all right."

Zeus shrugged carelessly and guided Hera to her chair, pulling it out for her. Once seated, his hand lingered on her shoulder and she looked up at him, a gentle smile on her face. It took him a moment to fight the urge to kiss her, settling for a tame peck on the cheek before he stepped back and moved to the head of the table. The rest of the meal passed in rather quiet talk, with the occasional burst of laughter.

Hera leaned over after a time, noticing that their table was not quite complete. Some absences were highly understandable – Ares was out riding. His children and Eris were probably hanging out at Troy, causing trouble and she knew she'd have to rein them in soon.

Hestia had gone at Demeter's request to visit an ill priestess, allowing Demeter the freedom to enjoy Persephone before the girl went home to the Underworld. She really had to talk to her sister and convince her to visit some time.

As hard as the separation was on Demeter, it had to be harder on Persephone. For the only one she really had was her husband and Hekate. It would help her out if her mother would visit and see what life really was like in the Underworld.

They'd heard Aphrodite and Hephaestus on their way to the solarium. As for both Hermes and Iris, it was highly possible that the two were either sleeping late – something Hermes was well known for. Or were out delivering the messages that had to be delayed because of the celebratory preparations.

She waved off Ganymede's offer of nectar with a smile, knowing that she would also have to speak to him. He was still attached to his Trojan roots and hearing of the trouble had to be hard for him. In fact, Hebe had mentioned that he was feeling like he should go home. Give up the immortality and return to his people, to help them out.

Leaning over to Eros, she asked in concern. "Is Psyche all right? I don't believe I see her."

"She's not feeling particularly well," he admitted, holding out his cup for Hebe to fill.

"Oh?" she asked, concerned. "Was the journey here rough?"

Eros shook his head, "No. She's been feeling queasy in the mornings for a few days. Usually by the afternoon she feels fine."

Hera and Artemis exchanged knowing looks and the Queen did a double take, seeing something else in the young goddess' eyes. A knowing look that startled her and made her wonder just what she had missed that night. Glancing at Apollo curiously who semi-acknowledged her look, she shrugged it off. She'd find time to talk to Artemis later, though she figured she could trust her to keep her mouth shut.

If she'd meant to tell anyone, Hera was sure she'd be hearing about it instead of enjoying breakfast. Turning back to Eros, she smiled at him, gently. She could see that while he was trying to hide it under a mask of calm, he truly was worried for Psyche's health. "It's nothing that nine months won't cure."

"Nine months…are you saying that…" he trailed off, unable to complete the sentence.

"Congratulations are in order," she nodded, almost laughing at his blatant surprise.

Eros sat there, stunned into silence for a moment before thinking of Psyche. "Would you excuse me please, Queen Hera?"

"Of course," Hera watched him leave, shaking her head. Feeling eyes on her, she looked up to meet the questioning eyes Zeus. She mouthed, _Psyche's with child_.

"Aphrodite will be thrilled," he said, voice completely ironic. Perhaps he could convince Hera to go on a second honeymoon – immediately, Olympian business be damned. He really didn't want to be here for the explosion that was sure to occur when the love goddess found out she was to be a grandmother.

She'd already had several fits over becoming a mother-in-law.

"It's not nice to gossip about me when I'm not around to defend myself, dad," she retorted. Following Hephaestus into the room, they walked to the far side of the table to join Zeus. He held out a chair for her and she smiled, waiting for him to sit beside her, before asking, "Did I miss anything particularly juicy?" though it was clear that she was already aware of the juiciest part of the morning's events.

Zeus exchanged looks with Hera, noting with fondness the soft blush coloring her checks as she realized what Aphrodite was referring to. "Not much has been going on, just the usual business," he said, picking up an apple.

"Oh? Nothing strange at all to explain the storm we had last night?" she asked, teasing. "A storm that seemed to be concentrated only in one area?"

"Zeus! I demand you do something about the situation in Troy!" Thetis' strident voice rang into the room seconds before the dark haired goddess entered. Her dark grey eyes flashed angrily as she took in the rather happy atmosphere of the room. The contrast here in light of the place she just came from was a slap to her face. "It's becoming impossible."

With a sigh, he wiped his lips and put down the napkin. "What could possibly be wrong now?"

"Paris has got it into his head that he's found his bride," she snapped. "When he went on a diplomatic mission for his father to Sparta, he met the one he thought was his because of a wrongly given promise."

"I never named her," Aphrodite protested. "Is it my fault that he decided for himself?" Though she really didn't fault his choice - Helen was the obvious choice for him. And she was a beautiful woman. It would have been hard to avoid it for not only had her mother Leda been a gorgeous woman and her true father was Zeus. It would have been hard to avoid any kind of looks blessed of the gods from such a union.

"Yes!" she shouted. "Had you never done something that harebrained, the situation wouldn't be so tense now. Are you really that stupid that you do not realize what you've set in motion?"

"Refrain from insulting my wife, Thetis," Hephaestus warned. "It isn't very becoming – nor do I appreciate it."

Hera cleared her throat before things spiraled even further out of control. Ganymede had already dropped a pitcher of nectar and she waved her hand, dismissing him from the room. He fled in relief.

"Thetis, please, lower your voice. There is no need to shout – and apologize for what you are implying," she quietly said. "There is no reason to shout at Aphrodite for the choice a mortal made contingent upon a promise she made to him. As she has said, she never named the woman – he chose for himself who it would be. Without consulting the one who had given him the promise, he may have made an incorrect decision. But the burden for that rests upon him, not upon Aphrodite."

"May have?" Thetis repeated disbelievingly but lowered her voice accordingly. Hera had a point, shouting was not the best way to get her message across and only made her seem hysterical. She did not apologize for her words though because she wouldn't mean them.

And if she didn't mean them, then she refused to say them. "Helen is happily married and has a child."

"Zeus?" Hera asked, turning the judgment over to him. She was going to take Thetis in hand later and explain why she needed to apologize for her words. It wasn't right to take anger out on the wrong party for it only hurt you in the end. From personal experience, she knew this all to well.

"Thetis, why should it matter who he has chosen?" he asked, needing a clearer picture.

"Why?" she nearly choked on the question. She couldn't believe that he did not remember an event that happened involving his own daughter. Though he hadn't acknowledged her as such, so that might be why he didn't care. "Do you not recall the many suitors for Helen's hand? That to spare a war after she chose her husband, her stepfather ordered all of her suitors to swear that they would abide by her choice? Then he went farther and had them vow to come to her aid should any harm befall her?"

"It was upon Odysseus' counsel," Athena reminded him.

A deep sigh escaped him, "I see. And you fear a mortal war coming about. Again, why? The mortals often have wars in which we have no part in."

Thetis shook with rage but calmed herself as best she could. "Achilles."

"Your son?" Hera asked, thinking for a moment. Doing the calculations of the wedding and then the date of the boy's birth, she felt compassion for her. And felt more understanding of her anger, her bottled up tension that really had no where to go.

Mayhap it was not Thetis alone she would have to take aside, but Aphrodite. As a mother who had a child about to enter into battle, Aphrodite would understand the fear that Thetis felt. Perhaps the two could bond, though she was pretty sure that their children would be on opposite sides.

So, that might not be a good idea. With a silent sigh, she realized that she would have to find another solution. It would not be good to have such chaos exist between the gods for such things led to wars between them. And as there was already a mortal war brewing as a result of them, it would not do to let this situation fester.

Mayhap she should just take Zeus and abdicate Olympus, leave it in the hands of the younger generation. If they went far enough away, they wouldn't be troubled by the events here. "He'd be of age to join the battle, would he not?"

"Yes, Lady Hera. My son is reckless, head strong, and mortal – thanks to you," she said, glaring at Zeus. The resentment she still felt at her ill treatment by his hand and by Poseidon still simmered, though she found some kind of acceptance from her mortal husband. If they so feared being over thrown by any child she had, wouldn't it have made more sense to leave her barren?

"The prophecy," Athena again supplied him with the information he was lacking.

"Ah, but you forget that I also have a mortal son who may become a part of this war – Sarpedon." As he mentioned his mortal son, he glanced sheepishly at Hera. This was another child of his, born while things had still been awkward between them.

A thought came to her mind. _Heracles_. If war came, he might join up. It was with this thought in mind that she gave him a sympathetic smile. Her husband's plight could so easily be hers. And she found herself fighting down the urge to rise and take his hand in hers. That might be pushing things to soon for the both of them – and the entire body of those assembled.

She couldn't know that he was fighting the same urge.

Only Aphrodite seemed unaware of the odd reaction for she was glaring at Thetis. _How dare this…this virago accuse me of wanting to start a war_? Fuming, wanting to yell at Thetis for her words, she felt Hephaestus touch her hand, wrapping it in his own and squeezing comfortingly.

"It's not worth it," he whispered.

Taking a deep breath, she visibly calmed herself down. Hephy was right. If she worked herself up, she might only prove her right about her motivation. "I suppose I should talk to him." She almost pouted, knowing that it meant a delay on her travelling with Hephy to the conference. And she really wanted to arrive with him, to show everyone how proud of him she was.

But she'd made a commitment to Paris, one that she had to honor.

A martial light entered Thetis' eye, terrifying to behold as she ignored Aphrodite and focused on Zeus. "Then you understand my situation. If war comes – and I have no doubt that it will – I want your assurance that you will not use your powers to aid your son. He will stand and fight on his own. If he falls, you will not hinder the decision of the fates regarding his death or his life.

"Should I receive this promise, I vow to do the same for my son. I will aid him with armor and counsel, but I will do no more than that."

"You have my word," he said after a moment. The idea that he wouldn't be able to stop his son's death was one he had to think over. Even if the boy was created out of wedlock – he was still his child. And he did care about all of his children, though he would be the first to admit that some of them got more of his love than others.

Many had remarked on his definite helpful bent towards Perseus, giving him far more aid than he had given any other heroic child he had. He could concede the point. In his case, he was more than generous. To this day, he could not say exactly _why_ he'd been that liberal.

After all, how many others could say that they were able to use Hades' helmet of invisibility because their father asked if he could borrow it?

She shook her head for she knew well what was on his mind and pressed. Zeus was a slippery devil and likely to find a loophole about it if she let him. In this, she was determined that he would suffer the same fears and worries that she did. "What promise do I have that you won't go back on your word?"

Exchanging another look with Hera, he closed his eyes. There was one he trusted above all else to hold him to his word honorably, since he was unwilling to swear on Styx. The River would make him obey, but the repercussion should he forget would not harm him – but his son.

And that he couldn't allow. "Do you trust Hera?"

"This isn't about her for it isn't her son," she objected hotly.

"But I am his wife and his queen," she quietly replied. Rising to her feet, she walked over to him and reached for his hand. Grateful when he accepted it, though she realized that there wasn't much chance of him ignoring it. Standing beside him, she met Thetis' eyes calmly. As much as she hated playing devil's advocate, it was a role she was well suited for. "I will make sure that he keeps his word."

Thetis was not quite content but accepted the answer for she knew Hera would keep her pledge. As she walked out, trying to think of a way to further protect her son, she also wondered at the closeness Hera and Zeus exhibited. She didn't think she'd ever witnessed it – even during the early years of their marriage.

Well, after they got back from their honeymoon that is.


	10. If she did right, is it betrayal?

_Author's Note and Thanks : Sorry for the delay in updates. As some who have read my profile page may know, my computer suffered a major crash and I lost a whole lot of things. Things seem to be okay, for now. Here's to hoping at least. Thank you to my loyal readers and reviewers, both new and old. I hope this part lives up to expectation_.

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Heracles left Megara and Admeta with the Amazons with mixed feeling. Admeta had become quite a woman, capable of ruling both justly and with the fierceness needed to protect her people. Eurystheus could rest well, knowing that his kingdom was at last in hands of a wise ruler.

At least, that was the opinion Heracles had formed over the course of their long journey.

Well, if he could convince her to leave the Amazons that was. As they had entered the camp, they had heard several tales of the weeding out of candidates for the new Queen of the Amazons. To her surprise, she was one of the choices. As Hippolyta had said, she couldn't go on forever.

And she didn't want to.

What she wanted was to leave her women in the hands of someone who would do right by them. Who would protect and serve them with ferocity and honor, while retaining the dignity and character that categorized them among those who really knew them. Admeta's actions had led to her being one of the few choices, the much younger but far more experienced Penthesilia being the other option.

But she was from another tribe of Amazons, sent to learn the older ways. From what he heard, this had been an unprecedented move. For her tribe was a Trojan ally – and as Hippolyta's was affiliated with the Spartans, they were rivals.

It seemed that, in an effort to preserve their heritage, Hippolyta was making a move to solidify the two into one tribe. But only if Admeta chose to go home.

But Megara…knowing that it would be the last time he'd see his friend, he felt sad. While he'd argued with her that her home was now in Tyrins, she had steadfastly refused to return with him. Even to say good-bye to the friends she'd made there, she would not return with him. The last view of her he had was of her waving at him, her words ringing in his ears.

'_I have found my peace here, Heracles. Ask no more from me for I wish to remain with my sisters. There is much that I have to make up for – and Hippolyta needs me here with her. I didn't realize what the loss of Lycia had done to her. I owe it to both of them to help. As you have had your labors to perform to heal, this one is mine for I can no longer follow after you. But this…this I can do_.'

His heart hurt as he turned his little boat towards home, hoping to have a bit of a rest before the next adventure began. She was his oldest and wisest female friend. Truthfully, he wasn't quite sure what he would do without her and her wisdom – and her kicking him in the pants when he got to behaving like an egocentric jerk.

Looking up at the sky, he noticed the mournful grey and wondered if his mother was shedding tears for him. He found himself doing that a lot more lately. Found himself wondering more and more about his mother, what she was doing and feeling, he wished that he'd been able to confide in Meg. Of all people, she deserved to know the truth.

Titans, but he could use his mother's advice right now.

Changing course, he decided to visit one of the lesser known Oracles of Apollo. She had said if he ever needed her advice, to consult with Apollo. It was with some trepidation that he made this decision for he'd foolishly lost his temper on his one visit to such an Oracle. They hadn't been willing to answer him and he'd reacted stupidly. Creating a situation where the god himself had to come down and see to him.

His penance then was rather comparatively light in comparison with some of the other tasks he'd been required to perform. He'd had to exchange his normal robes and club for a woman's veil and shuttle, living in their quarters. While serving with Omphale, he had learned to focus his temper to make it work for him instead of against him. Truthfully, he'd actually learned that if he didn't want to live as a woman, he'd better keep his mouth shut.

And temper in check.

Entering the Temple after a trip of three days on sea and two across land, he made a small offering and walked up to the Priestess there. The beautiful, dark skinned woman waited for him by the statue of Apollo, her brown hair encircled about her head in several braids. Though not the High Priestess, she had the markings of an apprentice.

She bowed to him respectfully, a cautious smile on her face. Though she'd lived in Achaea for most of her adult life, a faint trace of her Libyan accent remained behind as she asked, "How may I be of aid to you, Heracles?"

Even after all the times of seeing and being seen by Oracles, he was always surprised that they knew him without an introduction. Most everyone he ever met didn't know him until he introduced himself. He knew they were expecting a more godly figure and was rather grateful not to have one. It would make travelling about rather difficult if he was always known.

Still, it made dealing with Oracles a shock. "I was wishing to hear advice from Lord Apollo."

"Ah," there was only a momentary fear in her eyes as she said, "I'm afraid that their will be no rituals today. My purification ceremony will not begin until tomorrow. Until then, I cannot speak to the god."

"But I need some answers," he almost whined.

She stepped back, eyes darting about fearfully. Everything was secure but that wouldn't hold against a man of his strength. And she was completely alone. Would anyone be able to come to her aid should she scream for it? Or would they all be too afraid of this man?

"Will the questions not wait until a safer time for me to speak with the Lord Apollo?" she tentatively asked, striving to appear firm.

"What if I said no?" his question was belligerent. And his look challenged her to say no to him again. But there was something in his eyes that spoke of a deeper desperation behind his presence here, one that asked her not to fear him.

She feared him anyway. It was hard not to fear the man who'd done so many things, fought so many monsters, - and stood against the god Ares in several battles and won. While he did not have the same kind of imposing presence that the Lord Apollo had, there was still that sense of power about him.

"Anaya Koreas, it's all right. I shall see to Heracles' needs," a low voice spoke from the right. The both of them looked over, noticing the robed woman standing there. Only her eyes showed above the white veiling, a startling green that looked at him in disappointment.

He recognized those eyes with a wince. Shame filled him. _Hera_.

"Have you not learned that there is no point in demanding for the things you want? That doing so only reveals a character of inner ugliness that detracts from the true spirit and beautiful soul that you possess?" she lectured him gently but firmly. "One that has been the real reason for your success for your love of humanity has granted you allies and aid that otherwise would have been denied you? Had Bellerophon been half so humble, he would not have met such an untimely and inglorious end."

Flushing, he looked down momentarily and then at Priestess Koreas. _What did she think of him now? Would she be ashamed to call him son now_? "Forgive me, Priestess," he sincerely said. Truly meaning it, his eyes remained chastened. "There is no excuse good enough to be a reason for being rude to you."

She nodded, recognizing his honest sincerity. "I forgive you." It was easy to say the words because she meant them. After all, it couldn't be easy to be the son of a god and have people always demanding more from you than you could rightly give them. One only had to think of Asclepius and what had become of him when he tried to help and heal all who came his way.

"You may leave us in peace," the woman said, noting the curious stare she was receiving from the both of them. One of them had gone from curiosity to knowing while the other remained fearful, if appreciative for what she had done to help her out in this situation. "I shall be quite all right alone with Heracles."

Still, it took the priestess a few more moments to leave them alone.

"Come into the garden," she invited him, stepping aside so that he could walk in front of her. Waiting until he was sitting under an olive tree, she knelt on the ground, tending to one of the sickly plants. After a moment of working to reassure herself that they were truly alone, she looked up at him. A hand pulled back the veil and she smiled up at him. "I had not expected you to want to see me so soon, Heracles."

"Hello, mother," he greeted her with a smile. Tilting his head, he asked, with regret. "Is this how it is to be? I only met you in disguise?"

After so long of questioning, of doubting if anyone really cared, it hurt to have to hide it away. He wondered how his mortal mother had handled the secrecy with such grace and compassion. Truly, he would have to thank her when he returned home. This must have been hard for her, keeping such a secret inside.

Knowing the truth and yet, she had to remain silent and full of grace in the face of all the lies. Silent amongst the accusers. Alcmene was a woman who raised him right but he lacked her strength for he wanted to reveal the truth to the world. It only made him love Alcmene more for being so loving and devoted to both him and his real mother.

"Will I ever be able to tell anyone the truth?"

"I thought it would always be in shadow, kept between us. But…" she trailed off, looking up at the heavens. For a moment, her eyes went distant, lost in memory. Looking at him, she quietly said, "Zeus knows."

"What?" he gasped, forgetting his own desire to end the secrecy with those he was closest to.

Anger and fear quickly came over him and he studied her intently. While he couldn't see any injuries, not seeing them did not mean that they weren't there. This he knew from painful experience. Luckily for him, though he had offended Apollo, the god of healing was also a forgiving god.

"Are you all right? He didn't hurt you, did he?"

"No, quite the opposite. He and I had a long talk," she paused momentarily, shaking her head with an almost lusty chuckle. "Well, talk isn't quite the word I should use for it was more like a bit of vocal soul searching, mixed in with some debating, on both of our parts. He wants to recommit to our marriage. In fact, he asked me to marry him again."

"And you said yes?" he asked, almost in disbelief.

"Well, I didn't exactly say no," she said, "Nor did I say yes."

"So, what did you say?"

"That he needed to be careful with my heart so as not to break it again," her reply was simple. "Heracles, I know that this is hard for you to understand in light of everything that you know of him, but Zeus does love me. Really, truly, deeply, slightly madly, but he loves me. It isn't quite in the same way as a mortal man would love his wife – or lover, so it is rather hard to explain. But that does not mean that his love for me doesn't exist.

"I no longer question that reality.

"And he is my husband. I have to obey the dictates of my heart and conscience in this. To do otherwise would be contrary to my nature. I've never wanted to be anywhere but at his side, though in the beginning it was never to be as his wife. Always as a councilor to him, aiding him as he ruled the heavens but I became his wife for he taught me to love him as he loves me.

"I truly believe that we can make this work. We are no longer the young, impetuous gods we once were. As all beings must occasionally do, we grow and change. The fates have decreed that Zeus and I change and grow together or apart. He does not desire a life without me, nor I one without him. So, we're going to try being a little more honest with each other, a little more lenient. In order to test him, I told him the truth."

"What did he say?" he asked, listening to her and trying to really see as she was seeing. Unfortunately, with all that he knew of Zeus, he was quite defeated.

The god that she was describing did not match any of the tales or even the reality of what he had seen of Zeus. After all, it wasn't his shot that had killed Porphyrion.

"He has called my son his son. Had he answered otherwise, we would not be talking now. Apollo would be in my place, letting you know where I was. For I would be living quietly somewhere – or preparing to fight him for he would have gone after you. As he did not, I know that he is earnest in making this work."

"And can you trust him not to cheat on you again?" This was one point he wanted to find out the most about for it was Hera's destructive, jealous side that threatened humanity. And as she had pointed out, he loved humans. If he had to fight his own mother to protect mortals…well, he wasn't sure if he could do it.

He'd be torn between two loyalties and knew that his mother would be the one he'd end up fighting.

"Oh, I know that he will. The difference now is that I know it isn't a reflection on me," she shrugged to hide her uncertainty. For while she really believed it, she wasn't really sure it would be that easy. "This time, he will be more honest with me. I hate that he can't be faithful.

"But what I think I hated more was the dishonesty he perpetuated when caught. It was an insult to my intelligence when he would try to hide it from me even though I could clearly see what he was doing. When he asked me to recommit, he said that he might not always be faithful but that he would always be mine.

"This is something I can trust." _Even if I hate it_, the words went unspoken but they both could clearly hear them.

Heracles shook his head, unable to wrap his mind about her almost blind devotion to Zeus. After all he had put her through, she was willing to give him another chance. Another chance to break her heart and throw her vows in her face, and here she sat, seeming to be quite accepting of her eventual heartbreak. Even resigned to the inevitability of Zeus' cheating ways, she should be angry enough to walk away from him.

Yet, he could also understand why she wished to remain in this union. It was a little bit of pride but it was mostly love. If she loved Zeus half as much as her eyes said she did, then he would give him the benefit of the doubt.

But heaven help the King of the gods if Zeus ever hurt her. She may have been Zeus' wife, but she was _**his**_ mother.

And he would protect her to the best of his ability, even against his mighty stepfather. "Well, you have my support," he replied. "Not that I think you need it."

"I may not need it, but I do want it," she softly told him. "It means a lot more to me than you can imagine. Thank you for trying to understand. Now, what is it you wish of me? Surely it was not to hear of my situation with Zeus save for what applies to you."

His head shook, knowing he'd never even thought about the two being parted. It was a non-issue in his mind. For, in reality, the two of them had never really separated. Even her vacation when she'd met the man who fathered him, she had always intended to return to Olympus.

To Zeus, even if she couldn't admit to the truth then.

"No, it wasn't," he paused, trying to find the words he needed to say. Trying to explain something to her when he barely understood it. "I'm…lonely and confused for I've lost Meg. She stayed with the Amazons."

"And you think this was a bad choice?"

"I don't know," he rubbed his neck. "Part of me gets her reasoning, she has found peace and purpose there, found the home she lost when Lerna was destroyed. I can't help but feel…" he trailed off, unable to put words to his conflicted and confused emotions.

"Betrayed?" she guessed.

Heracles looked at her in shock. "Why would that word come to mind?"

"She's been a part of your life for a long time, though not as long as Iolaus has. As such, she is your friend and has been a part of your labors. Now, she leaves you behind to start life anew in a place removed from your side. A trail of her own choosing and design," she explained, reaching out to rest her hand upon his knee. "You had always thought that she'd be there for you when you needed her, never thinking otherwise. She no longer will be. It's natural to feel betrayed and let down."

"Am I wrong?" he asked softly, staring at her. "I feel that if I could just convince Iolaus to see her as she sees him, she would come home."

"But she still would not be in the same role as your best friend. She would become wife to your cousin," she pointed out, rising to sit beside him. "That would change the dynamic between you for his loyalty would move from you to her. You might find yourself in the middle of their marital woes, not an easy place for any friend to be. It isn't bad to want to keep her in your life but if you try only because of selfishness, you make light of everything the two of you have shared with each other. She isn't that far away."

"It feels like she is for I have this feeling that I won't be seeing her again. At least, alive," he said, staring off to the right before kneeling on the ground. Resting his head in her lap, he remembered the last time he'd been in this position. Though the grief was different, he still needed the comfort of his mother.

With care, she ran a hand through his hair, soothing him as she would Ares, Hephaestus, or Hebe. Though the older they had gotten, they had not sought her comfort as often as they once had unless truly grieved. Even Ares had returned to her, though he always made sure she was completely alone. In return, she never betrayed him by letting others know of his need for solace.

In later days, it had become something she had done for Apollo or surprisingly for Artemis, even on very rare occasions Hermes.

It was not something she'd ever tried on Dionysius – too much bad blood between them to ever let them be truly comfortable with each other – or Eris for that particular goddess had never wanted nor needed comfort from her mother. She'd often preferred the company of Strife or Deimos and their chaotic existence to want peace and comfort.

There was a part of her that hurt to not have a deeper connection with her youngest child. But as she had been conceived and born during one of the worst parts of her marriage, she had a hard time looking at her with any kind of affection. She wished that it wasn't so but had given up trying to bond with her in any meaningful way.

Finally accepting the truth – Eris didn't want her to be a part of her life.

"I could always point out that you would be able to visit her in the Realm of Hades," she softly said, "But that isn't true for she would not be the same woman you know in life. While the dead have a semblance of life, they lack the vitality of it. I remember wondering what it would be like to visit, wanting to see Philon again."

Heracles didn't stiffen or pull away at the reference to this stranger. He relaxed, listening to her tender voice, the very real affection there. The hand in his hair felt real, calming, strong, and he envied his siblings that they had this touch all of their lives. The touch that reassured them that they were loved, were valued, and that they were real.

It reminded him that even the gods grieved and felt the need to be reassured, of their need for love.

The touch also reminded him of Alcmene's love and constant support for him. Though he'd often doubted his place in this world, the touches of both of his mothers assured him that he was known and loved, that he was valued as more than just a strong warrior. Truly, he was blessed to have such loving and wonderful parents – even Amphitryon deserved praise for accepting him into his home when he didn't need to. A part of him wondered about Zeus, about how she'd said that he accepted him, and wondered if it was true.

Hera smiled, a gentle smile as she felt him relax. "To walk up to him in the Elysian Fields talk with him as I once did, and knowing that such a desire was futile. Even should I find him, he would not be the Philon I knew when he walked on earth. For while I do not doubt that I would be included in his happiest memories, I am not his wife. Sarapessa had been the love of his childhood and for most of his young adult life.

"It would've hurt to have to see him with another. But I wouldn't trade the love and life he gave me for anything for he gave me you," she paused. A laugh burst forth, "I never would've thought when I met him that we would've been anything more than distant neighbors. He was…rather irritating."

"Really?" he asked, tilting up his head to look at her.

With a nod, she explained, "I was new to the community. Not only that but I was newly mortal in body and perception. There were many things that I didn't understand about the way things worked in the mortal world. I had to learn about haggling, about the way mortals truly worshipped the gods…I'm afraid that the extent of my ignorance appalled him. I think he was afraid I was going to bring Zeus' wrath down upon them with my rather clumsy attempts at doing anything regarding proper rituals.

"Or even the causal observances towards the gods," this was said with a slight laugh.

"Somehow, I doubt Zeus would bring wrath down upon the city if you hadn't properly observed him," he dryly said.

Her laugh agreed with him. "About the only thing I was good at was treating visitors with reverence and respect. I was lucky in that Alcmene was travelling with her husband's army during my early days living upon Gaea's surface. They'd been passing through, finished with whatever war he'd been commanding. They decided to rest for a while, not knowing if they'd be welcomed back at home. You may not know it but she married him against her father's wishes. As a result, they were driven out.

"So, I benefited from her company. There were so many things she taught me. I never would've made it without her patience, her understanding, and her friendship. She was still in that newlywed phase when everything was fresh but settling into a comfortable pattern, just fresh out of the Temple – but she knew me instantly. I don't really know how, covered in mud and animal feed as I was," she laughed again.

"I was really bad at feeding animals," she confided. "Even goddesses make mistakes – especially if they are pretending to be something they aren't and refuse to use their abilities. Most of the time, the animals were accepting of my clumsy efforts – they've always known the presence of divinity, no matter how disguised. Of course, pigs proved to be the exception and weren't above jumping me in an attempt to get their food. In fact, that's how I also met Philon."

A dirty Hera? Heracles had a hard time seeing the composed woman as anything but immaculate. "He saw you covered in muck?"

She nodded, "I'd fallen into the mud, chasing after one of my pigs. I was more angry than embarrassed to be caught so by a man. It could've been worse. At least he only got a glimpse of me in an irritable mood. My first impression of him was that he was a loathsome toad for he couldn't even be bothered to help me up. All he did was stand there, laughing at me. The other men in the town had thought I was some kind of nymph for I couldn't quite rid myself of my godly beauty. For all his devotions, he could care less. I was both angry – and intrigued by this man. As a result of those conflicted emotions, I was nasty.

"He just ignored my attitude, said something about it being a part of woman's nature. That it would take more than a tongue lashing to get rid of him," she shook her head. "I'd never met a more pigheaded mortal. Now, he wasn't quite as stubborn as Zeus. No one is _**that**_ stubborn, although he would argue – and quite affectively – that I'm far worse than he is. And he's right. I am."

It was her matter of fact tone that made him comment, rather surprised. "Do you think that's something to brag about?" Most women tried to avoid admitting to such a thing. Even _**he**_ tried to avoid admitting to it, something that was patently ridiculous as Meg and Iolaus were often to say.

"I don't see it as bragging," she replied calmly. "It's quite true. I'm stubborn and sometimes have to be kicked in the rear in order to change my ways. That's not something I can deny, so why should I even try? Since it is such a part of me, I feel that I'm not so much bragging about it as warning people of the type of woman I am. Not all people like surprises," she added, thoughtfully. "I'm in the category of it depends upon my mood – and the person behind it."

"Did Philon ever try to surprise you?" he asked.

Her hand paused briefly, thinking it over. Trying to decide which one would be the most acceptable to tell him. It wasn't as if they were scandalous, but some weren't ones she could think of with any degree of distance yet. "Yes, he did. This was after we'd officially been introduced but were still in that state in which we weren't sure what to make of each other.

"But I think he decided that he rather liked me and wanted to get to know me better but wasn't sure how to go about doing it. Or that he was sufficiently intrigued by my presence that he wanted to find out how far he could push me. Anyway, I went out one morning to find my fence had been moved. The strangest part of it was that there were no traces on how it had been done. Fences do leave traces of where they were. But I believe you know something of fences?"

Heracles laughed, "I'm not going to live that down, am I?"

"Not anytime soon, I'm afraid," she agreed, her hand resuming its soothing pattern.

"I guess there's worse things to be teased about," he said in resignation. "Have you any moments like that?"

"Several – but not all of them are appropriate for your ears," she dryly said, clearing her throat. "So, about Philon's surprise. I find out that not only has my fence been relocated but that all of my cows were on the other side, mingling with his bulls. His _**bulls**_ mind you, not his cows. All I could do was stand there, mouth agape, staring at our animals and wondering if he was trying to hint at something."

"Was he?" he interrupted.

"If he was, it was truly hidden within his subconscious. He actually had the audacity to suggest that _I_ was the one who'd decided to bring about this mixing of breeds. I was in the midst of yelling at him about how he'd stolen my cows and that I should bring him up on a charge of some kind when he started to laugh and asked me if I knew how absurd I sounded.

"Then asked me if I thought Hermes would be impressed. For a moment, I froze, thinking that he knew. He pointed out the cleverness of the trick, I couldn't avoid thinking of how right he was. The whole situation had such an air of absurdity to it – especially my reaction to it. I just couldn't help myself. I started to laugh," she stiffened and looked up.

"Greetings and salutations, Lord Zeus."

Heracles stiffened as a direct result of her reaction. All of the words she'd said about Zeus were forgotten and he rose, moving to stand in front of Hera, defensively. His searching eyes studied the piercing black of Zeus' own, noting that there was soft affection for the woman behind him before they looked at him.

Shockingly, even after hearing his mother's words, they held almost nothing for him. Not even a shred of hatred or burning anger, Zeus simply looked at him. It should have relieved him that she'd been telling the truth. Still, his mind struggled to take it in.

_How could he not feel even the remotest feeling for the living proof of his wife's adultery_?

"Greetings, my Lady Hera. I know that I promised you an entire day in which to talk with Heracles, but Demeter has put the ice on Troy," he stopped when she rose.

"Best see what I can do about heating it up," she said on a sigh. "I knew that it was going to get bad. Foolishly, I hoped that it wouldn't start so soon. Heracles, I have to go – but I will come should you ever call upon me. You need never fear upon that for you are always in my sight and in my heart."

Facing her, he smiled. Though the presence of Zeus made him nervous, he couldn't regret spending this time with her. Even if it had been cut remarkably short, "Thanks." He had the feeling that they were speaking of war and wondered if he would be called to join in the battle. For all his vast experience, he didn't think he'd ever fought in a mortal war.

The thought filled him with dread.

Hugging him tightly, she whispered, "Don't worry, my son. No matter what happens or what you choose to do, I'm always proud of you." Veiling herself, she vanished from sight, leaving him and Zeus alone in the garden.

"She's quite a woman," Zeus observed, voice heavy with affection. "And she's right to be proud of you."

Turning around, he studied him intently. There was no way he could deny the true care in the god's voice. But it was hard to picture this man – god, he corrected – as loving towards a woman he so often ignored. "Since I'm sure that you mean that, I thank you."

"But you have questions regarding the sincerity of my emotions towards my lady wife," he said, facing him again.

"Shouldn't I?" he retorted, arms crossing his chest. "It wasn't too long ago that you cursed a small, water god for lusting after her. By doing that, you left a town defenseless against a rampaging centaur. If she had not sent me on that mission, they would still be tormented." _And I would never have known the joy of Deianeira_, he silently added, knowing that Zeus didn't need to hear that.

"Now, you seem all to willing to let go of that possessive attitude and embrace her adultery – to embrace me."

"Love is a gift, Heracles," he coldly said. "Don't squander it." The words floated towards him on a breeze as he was left standing alone in the garden, a faint perfume in the air.

654321

"Mother, I'm home," Heracles called as he walked into the quiet home.

The layer of dust covering the furniture was surprised him. Filled with trepidation, he dropped his bag to the ground and hung up his cloak. Walking through every room, he quickly became aware of how lonely the house seemed, how empty it was. Turning around, he walked out and down the lane towards Iolaus' home. Knocking sharply, he waited as patiently as he could for it to open.

Breathing deeply, he tried to ignore the knots of worry filling his belly as his mind played out all the scenarios that could have resulted in his mother's disappearance. It wasn't like her to just leave her home, leave it without any kind of letter to him. She knew he'd worry over her.

"Heracles," Iona greeted him. Though she was the same age as Alcmene, the care of the years seemed to wear more heavily upon her than it ever had upon his mother. Her blue eyes held that faded quality of one who had seen to much pain and not enough joy and he was glad that he'd never seen Iolaus' so shadowed. "What can I do for you?" she asked, brushing a strand of gray hair behind her ear and rearranging her veil.

"Has something happened to my mother? She wasn't home," he said.

Iona blinked, "She left you no note? Strange," she murmured.

Heracles waited for a moment for her to continue before clearing his throat, counseling patience. As much as he wished to demand answers, he wouldn't get very far with it. Iona was not above shutting the door in his face. She'd done that to him once or twice.

More like half a dozen times because he still got tetchy with her. Of course, she was also rather fond of setting her dogs upon him. Though she was aware that he could easily harm her mutts, she still did it.

"Aunt Iona?" he gently prodded. "What happened to my mother?"

"Oh, she's gone to stay with Iphicles and Rena – that's his wife's name, right? I can never remember since he was engaged to that other girl before she left him for that soldier. I'm sure he met her later on that year, at that harvest festival. Or was it that wedding?'

"Aunt Iona?" he gently prodded.

"This pregnancy of hers is a bit more complicated than expected," she came out of her thoughts quickly, though she loved a good piece of gossip as much as the next person did. Living in small towns – even things in a big city – very little changed. One needed to hear and repeat all the stories one came across, even if they were exaggerated.

He breathed a sigh of relief. At least something bad hadn't occurred. Well, bad to his mother. He supposed that a complicated pregnancy was a bad thing and felt sorry for the couple. Anyway, he'd have to offer up a prayer and an offering to Artemis and to Hera to make sure that everything went as it should.

It was the least he could do for them especially since Artemis appeared to be protecting his mother. Though he supposed that under those circumstances, he should think of her as Artemis' stepmother. He didn't know this for sure but since there hadn't been a problem between them when Hera had come down to talk to him during their rescue of the hind, he felt safe in believing this was true. Though he had to wonder why when they both stood on opposite sides of the female perspective.

"Thanks, Aunt Iona. I'm going to go see them."

"Iolaus wanted to see you about something," she remembered to tell him before he stepped away from the step.

"Is he here?" he asked, stepping back towards the house. Best to get it out of the way now before things got to hectic and he completely forgot about it.

Shaking her head, she gestured towards the hills. "He received a missive and left. I haven't seen him in days."

"That's not like him. He's usually more conscientious than that," he murmured. Debating for a moment, he made a quick decision. The only one he really could under the circumstances, "I'll talk to mom before going to find him."

"Thank you, Heracles." The relief was obvious in her voice.

"Just out of curiosity, do you still have the missive?" he asked. "It may help me determine the state of his mind and where he may go to work off his tensions. If he was sad, then his pattern of behavior is different than it would be if he was angry. And there's no telling how he'll act if he's heartbroken."

Iona thought it over for a moment before shaking her head in regret. "I'm afraid that he took it with him."

"Don't be," he said. "The fact that he has it with him tells me more than reading it would." Walking into the palace, he made his way past the courtiers quietly and as quickly as possible. They were the last people he wanted to deal with, though he did take a moment to speak with Eurystheus. Knowing that he knew of the journey he'd so recently undertaken with Admeta, he knew his insight into the girl would be desired by the king.

After leaving his chambers, he went to the quarters his family was staying in. Iphicles was no where around and Rena was resting peacefully. He found Alcmene sitting in front of the window, her once vibrant, curly blond hair a soft gray. Still, for all the lines of worry and care that crisscrossed her face, she remained his graceful and beautiful mother.

"Thank you," he softly said, hugging her tightly.

"For what?" she asked, returning the hug.

"For having the courage to face the gossip of vindictive, jealous women and the town's condemning you for your unfaithfulness to your husband. They say I have strength and courage, it is nothing compared to yours for all that you did for me over the years. Nothing compared to what Amphitryon did in allowing scandal to be attached to your name and standing by you. I can't begin to understand how he must've felt, hearing all of the mud slung upon you.

"The both of you gave me so much at great cost to yourselves. Most of all you for you had to walk through the sting of gossip was continually heaped upon you and you said nothing. Thank you for watching over me, for loving me, and – most of all – thank you for indenturing me to Hera. If not for that, I don't think I'd ever have learned my mother's true character," he whispered, the confession for her ear alone.

Alcmene relaxed. After so long of waiting, she could finally relinquish her burden. She could stop looking for that sign that he knew, that he suspected the truth. From his reaction, he'd not only taken the news well, but that he had met her and had not been disappointed – not that she'd expected anything less of him.

It was everything she'd hoped for when she arranged for him to do penance under Hera's name and standard.

Still, she had worried that he wouldn't be able to see beyond the rumors. That he would hold onto the more vicious stories that circulated. For while they were true, she wasn't going to deny that such actions were a part of Hera's character, they weren't all that Hera was.

Limited by man's perspective of what a woman was, the real flesh and blood goddess that she was had been hidden from sight.

"So, she finally was able to tell you. I'm glad," she said. "And it was no hardship to me to care for you, troublesome though you at times could be."

"Couldn't have you getting complacent," he teased. They sat there for a while, exchanging tales before he rose with regret. "I have to find Iolaus." Though he just wanted to rest, he knew that he had to find his friend. _Oh, Nebula, why couldn't you just leave well enough alone_? For only the pirate queen had ever affected him so deeply.

"Of course you do," she smiled. "He would do no less for you." She watched him disappear from her window, waving the whole time. There was something else going on, she could sense it. But she'd long ago resigned herself to living with secrets being kept from her – and by her.


	11. I Never Would've Guessed It Was Her

An arrow flew straight and true, striking the small, barely visible knot on the tree. Heracles waited before moving forward, wondering what he'd find. It was highly understandable that Iolaus would take out his frustrations in hunting and staying away from people. But the fact that he was merely shooting arrows at a tree spoke of deeper troubles, something that he wasn't quite sure he knew how to handle.

In all of Iolaus' moods, he'd never done anything like this.

"Iolaus?" he asked, remaining partly in the shadows of the clearing. The last thing he wanted was to startle his friend – or get an arrow in the chest. If it had been anyone else, he wouldn't have worried. But the arrows Iolaus used had been a gift, tipped with centaur blood. The only thing both men knew of that could physically harm him. It was something the both had found out on one of their many side trips.

"She's getting married, Herc. Married," he laughed bitterly. His blood shot eyes were wild in grief and anger. It was hard to determine which held the most sway over him. With his scraggly beard and unwashed clothes, he truly looked like the wild man who had scared the people in the town that he'd passed through – it was how he'd found him.

"And she wants me to come," he continued, as though Heracles had asked him for more information, "To give her my blessing with regards to her union. Not only that but she wants me to give her away, says I'm the only one she considers family. How do you like that?"

"That's cold," he said hesitantly. While he'd known it had something to do with Nebula, he hadn't thought it would something this bizarre and heartless. "It doesn't sound like her."

"Oh, bizarre as it seems, it's her all right," he said as he notched another arrow in his string and pulled it taut. "The messenger was none other than Xenon. I asked him after it and he said it was true. That every word written had happened, he was only truly sorry to be the bringer of bad news. What am I to do?"

"What do you want to do?"

"Force her to come away with me and think about what it is she's doing," he said, taking a deep breath to regain control and aimed carefully. "But my question wasn't about wants, it was about what I need to do. I wish Meg were here."

"You do know that she's in love with you, right?"

Iolaus let the arrow fly, watching as it sank into the wood with a resounding _thunk_, andthen faced him, eyes pained and resigned. "Yes, I know. I've tried to ignore it because I don't feel the same kind of feelings for her. It would have been so much easier for me if I had."

"Perhaps, but you've never done the easy thing," Heracles observed, watching him place another arrow on the bowstring. "Have you been doing this the whole time you've been out here?"

"No, sometimes I actually shoot food," he replied, a bitter smile on his face. "Food isn't what I need right now. I just need the distraction this provides. Tell me of your travels, Herc, and I'll stop shooting for a while. I've got a rabbit from earlier today as well as some figs and olives."

"Admeta isn't quite a brat anymore," he said, watching Iolaus lower the bow.

The blue eyes stared at him, incredulously. "You're kidding."

Walking over to sit on a log, he shook his head. His hand twisted a twig in his hand. "Yeah, that was my reaction to actually meeting up with her again. But the more I travelled with her, the more I realized that it was no joke. She's really done some growing up. The Amazons trained her and changed her heart. Not that she's changed that much, she's incredibly vicious against her enemies," and he had to pause, thinking of the way she'd beheaded the Captain who'd nearly killed the hind.

The relish on her face was understandable – and frightening to behold at the same time. "But she tempers that with compassion. Of course, I think she's going to have to find a husband who thinks compassion and mercy first because she doesn't."

"Not many men fit that qualification, Herc," he dryly pointed out. "And Orestes already has a wife and a kingdom. His son is already betrothed, not to mention he is the heir. There is no way they could combine the kingdoms into one, seeing as how there are several principalities between them."

"I wasn't thinking of them," he murmured. "Perhaps she just needs several good advisors, ones she can actually trust to do the right thing, not the most expedient."

They were silent for a while as Iolaus built up a fire and started to cook the rabbit. As they ate, he cleared his throat, "So, tell me, how did you find the Golden Hind? I won't bother to ask if you were successful – it's obvious that you were – but what kind of threats did you run into?"

"She was already captured by some members in the small community," he paused, thinking over how they had found her. The cage that held her, trapped and at the mercy of men she had known nothing about – and feared.

"What?" Iolaus asked, noting a familiar look in his eye. It was that half feral, half lost look that had been in his eyes from time to time. "Did Hera do something against you at last?"

"Don't you _**ever**_ say something like that about her! She deserves more respect and honor than that!"

The furious roar of his voice and incensed eyes startled his friend. So startled that he dropped the plate he was holding, almost looking around for an escape. Never before had he been afraid of his best friend for they had been through far too much together. It had never _occurred_ to him to be scared for this was Heracles, the guy he grew up with. Though he'd seen him in battle, it never changed his perception of him.

Until that moment.

All of that anger, that leashed menace was staring him straight in the face and he shivered. Truly at a loss on how to recall his cousin to himself. "Heracles?" he timidly asked, hands held out in a silent appeal. He watched as the hero visibly regained control over himself.

"I'm sorry, Iolaus. I never should have yelled at you. How could you know? How could you know what I've only just found out?" the last was whispered, barley heard above the sounds of the forest.

He put the plate aside and bent his head, holding it in his hands. His fingers twitched in his hair, trying to bring some sense of comfort to his mind. Reality set in at that moment as he realized that he was going to have to get used to people making comments like that one – possibly even worse ones – and he wouldn't be able to explain away his reaction to them. This was just one more thing that he was going to have to get used to. It was strange that when people thought that Zeus was his father, he could care less about what they said about him.

But when they spoke – or referred – to Hera in a negative or degrading manner, he felt the need to smash things and knock heads into the ground. To hurt them until they treated Hera with the respect she deserved, not because she was the Queen of the gods, which was only right, but because she was his mother.

Iolaus studied him. Once he was assured that nothing was going to happen, he rose to sit beside him. "Heracles, what happened?"

Raising his eyes to meet his, he drew in a deep breath. This was one person he knew he could talk to, could trust. "Zeus isn't my father."

"So, which of the gods is it?" he asked, not sure he understood what that had to do with Hera. And if Zeus wasn't his father, why had Hera tried to kill him?

"None," he replied. "Swear to me that you won't tell anyone what I am about to tell you without my consent. No matter what, you cannot tell anyone."

Iolaus was silent. Heracles had never spoken to him in this way. He'd never frightened him like this – outside of battle that was. Whatever else this was, this was serious. His eyes widened as an idea formed.

An outrageous one, true, but the only thing that made any sense with Heracles' reaction to his words.

"Hera's your mother, isn't she." The silence and the tense shoulders, the way Heracles wouldn't quite meet his eyes were the only answers he needed. "Oh, what are you going to do? I mean, Zeus will…he'll use you for lightening practice.

"Or something," he added uncertainly.

Actually, he wasn't quite sure what Zeus would do to any mortal child of Hera's. There was no precedence for it because there had never been a reason for him to react. There was a security in knowing the kind of goddess Hera was for one always knew where one stood with her.

You kept true to your vows, she was supportive and helpful. If you crossed her, she would make your life a living nightmare. Faithful and devoted, she wasn't known for her roving eye. Or her forgiving manner of those who strayed and broke the vows they made.

But then, he thought some more about it. Hera's actions towards mortals had become far more kind, more open, and loving towards her followers ever since that mysterious disappearance of hers he'd heard people speak of. There was a sense of true acceptance towards mortals. There was more forgiveness and kindness towards the mortals who followed her – especially women who faltered in their vows.

Could the birth of Heracles be the reason for the change?

"Mother says that he won't do anything," he replied.

"And you believe that?" Iolaus asked, skeptical of Zeus being lenient towards him. It was not something he'd take at face value, that's for sure. And the nonchalance in Heracles' voice didn't do much to inspire confidence in his words. It was usually a bad sign when Herc hid his emotions so casually.

"Until he gives me reason to believe otherwise, I don't see that I have much choice." There was a break in his voice as he let Iolaus in. And it was clear from the doubt in his voice, the uncertainty there, that he was not sure of his words, no matter how accepting they sounded. It was such an odd sound. For even when he'd had some idea that he was Zeus' son, Heracles hadn't been bothered by the idea that Hera had the power to do anything she wanted to him with little objection or interference by his father.

But now that it was _**Zeus**_ in the position of the betrayed, of the vindictive spouse, the questions of his fate were left completely open. There was more to fear.

"So, she just came down and told you that she was your mom," he said, voice heavy with skepticism.

Heracles shook his head. "She just confirmed what I had been feeling for a long time."

Iolaus was hurt, deeply hurt by this secrecy. He knew that he wasn't the most closed mouthed of people, but he thought that Heracles knew that he could trust him to remain quiet about the important things. Even if they were speaking of it now, it didn't remove that stinging pain that they'd never talked of it before.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Tell you what? That I had a theory that what everyone was saying about who my father could be was a lie? No, I couldn't do that," he said. "I never even told Deianeira what I thought. And if I couldn't tell my own wife – a priestess of Hera – that I felt everyone was mistaken, how could I tell you?"

"That's true," he was silent, thinking. Trying to swallow back his hurt and process all that he was saying. It was no easy feat but Iolaus was nothing if not loyal and honest. He knew that, when push came to shove, he was the only one Heracles would turn to. As such, he needed to continue faithful in that course.

Even if he was hurt by the fact that he'd never even been told about his speculation.

And then he remembered something, a talk they'd had about the voice that had sometimes come to Heracles in his times of need. A voice that was not stern like Athena's but it was a woman's voice, calm and authoritative. "You did once hint about it though."

"Yeah, I did at that." He recalled once talking to him about the voice that had often guided and offered comfort to him. A soft, female voice that had never seemed angry even if there was disappointment in it at times, he remembered saying that he felt it was the voice of a mother.

"But if she's your mother, why did she try to kill you? That makes no sense," Iolaus pointed out.

Heracles shrugged, "I can only offer a theory on that. It may be nothing more than trying to distract others from noticing her strange behavior. If you remember, that's the only direct attack that was aimed at my family and it was more towards me than them. All of those on Olympus must've been excepting something – especially in light of my name – so, she had to do something.

"Otherwise, Zeus might've been more curious. He might've pressed her about what she was up to in regards to me or did some private searching to find out what really happened to her."

"Do you really believe that?"

"I don't have any other theory," he shrugged. "Iolaus, I just found out about this. And only recently did I find out my father's name, Philon. I'm struggling to make sense of what doesn't make any sense at all. Which means that I have no answers except for what makes sense to me," he added.

They were quiet before Heracles offered him his plate, "Did you want to finish this? Yours is quite inedible now."

Shaking his head, he recognized Heracles' need for privacy. In truth, this whole conversation was making him uncomfortable for he didn't know quite what to think. It was one thing to think that your best friend was the son of the King of the gods.

To find out that he was the son of the Queen…well, that was another matter entirely.

Although, he did wonder what Jason would think if told that Heracles was Hera's son – the woman that Jason pledged eternal devotion to. It was sure to be something that would shock the younger man should he ever hear of it.

But Iolaus was a man of his unspoken word. As far as he was concerned, Zeus would remain Heracles' father.

"So, the Hind was captured," he hinted.

"It was a situation of touch and go for a bit for neither of us was prepared for that. The last I'd heard of the Hind, she was running loose in the hills and valleys, free of human contact and touch. But as I said, that's not how we found her…

_Athena stood in radiant glory, aegis and helmet bringing out her fierceness. Staring down at the girl before her, more interested in her than in the son of Zeus, she took note of all that she did. Of how she acted in her presence._

_Heracles was nothing to her at that moment._

_She'd met enough of these half-blooded heroes – though mostly she associated with the children of her father and uncle – in her life to know that they needed no real personal attention. Perhaps a bit of advice as with Perseus, a hand to guide them in the right direction – such had been the case with Bellerophon – but the divine biology within them always gave them greater courage and insight. They didn't always listen to common sense, got to full of their own self-importance, but hopeless they were not._

_They inevitably found their way through._

_The fully mortal heroes, on the other hand, she had her doubts about. Many proved flighty and far too prone to flights of hubris for her taste, though she admitted that demigods had that problem as well. Bellerophon had been such a promising man in his youth but the tempestuousness that Poseidon was known for, he also had._

_But mortals were often more so, all she had to do was recall Ariadne and her vain pandering. For all of their hubris, there was something about them that was intriguing. As such, she was always more demanding of them and far more strict. If they wanted her help, they would have to prove themselves worthy of it. With the exception of Megara, Iolaus, Cassiopeia, and Jason, she'd found the lot of them rather uninspiring._

_Though Odysseus was promising to be both cunning and interesting enough to gain her favor. His wife was also proving to be an interesting woman, quite above the regular simpering fools she'd often seen below. She thought her name was Penelope._

_Finally, she raised her eyes and glanced at Heracles, noting the humble pose._

_But the intensity in his look, the compassion for both the Hind and the girl surprised her. This was the woman who had caused him to perform an act that had nearly led to the annihilation of her people. If not for Hera's surprising interference, forbidding him from doing anything, she knew that Ares would've attacked and destroyed Tyrins._

_As it was, they'd had to hear him rant and rant – and RANT – for months afterwards about the atrocity of what had occurred to his Amazons._

"_Lady Athena, I am willing to hear your counsel. This beautiful Hind is trapped and no solution presents itself to my mind on how best to save her," the girl's voice cut into her thoughts._

_She narrowed her grey eyes as she looked at the imprudent girl who'd spoken before she'd finished making her study of the both of them. "I am fully aware of the delicacy of the situation. But you would be advised to keep hushed until I have made an accurate judgment upon matters for myself. Save your breath on an apology, it is worthless to me for you do not truly mean it. You are only sorry that I scolded you not that you have done any real wrong."_

_Admeta subsided, sparing a glance at Heracles. For all that he seemed to be there with them, the man also seemed to be thousands of miles away. It could only have been as a result of his visit earlier than night. _Who was that strange goddess_?_

_She couldn't help but wonder now that she was looking at Athena and seeing the clear differences between the two deities. From the way the other goddess had been dressed, she knew that it couldn't have been Artemis. But the only other goddess who came to mind was Hera for the outfit she wore and the regal way she moved was not the way of Demeter._

_Yet, that idea was laughable at best for if it had been the Queen of the gods, they would not be here now._

_Besides, Heracles was no longer fully in her service as her indentured servant. She had no guiding place in any of his adventures unless he performed an act that returned him to her service. Admeta understood from her father that his release was contingent upon his good behavior._

_Well, mostly upon his ability to remain in good faith with all men and gods._

"_As I understand matters as they stand before us, the Hind is to be sacrificed. If she is not, these men will be in her stead. No matter the reason for why the Hind was chosen, the sacrifice must be kept. A blood debt must always be paid," she paused and looked at them. "This is something that neither of you want, am I correct?"_

"_Yes, Lady Athena. If at all possible, I would like to spare lives and prevent to much bloodshed. I am aware of the fact that some blood may fall but I do not want the losses to be more than a victory is worth," she quietly replied._

_For the first time, the goddess' face softened. Though the girl had grown older in years and had become a woman over time, she was still just a child. "A wise answer and a just one, worthy of a ruler," she complimented her. "So, have you any ideas on how to perform such a feat?"_

"_The only one that comes to mind is unpalatable to me. I **hate** that it is the only thing that comes to mind," Admeta paused. The sound of such anger and rage disconcerted her for it didn't seem right that she should expose that side of herself to the goddess after being paid such a compliment. So, she took a moment to regain her composure before meeting her eyes evenly. They dropped away quickly for even she did not have the audacious courage to stare a goddess eye to eye for long._

"_And that would be?"_

"_To allow the sacrifice to happen," she couldn't stop the tremble in her voice._

"_Would that not defeat the purpose of saving the Hind?"_

"_That is why that solution is not one that I would recommend. But Heracles is not capable of moving fast enough to make it look as though the sacrifice has happened and yet to save the Hind from death. Nor am I. Such a thing is the domain of the gods and I would never presume to ask such a favor."_

"_If I were to offer to help you in this deception, would you accept that aid?" she asked, more impressed by the humility in the girl. Her mental processes could use some work though._

"_Forgive my impudence but is that not the kind of thing the Lord Hermes is known for?"_

"_Have I said that I would work alone?" she asked, glaring behind her at the snickering god. "Shut up, Hermes."_

"_Not very nice, Athena. I may just refuse my aid for that," he replied._

"_That's not much of a threat when you enjoy a good prank," she dryly responded, turning back to Admeta. "You would need more aid in redirecting the attention of those who are truly aware of the gods than Heracles can offer. Make no mistake, you are going to a town in which they have a true seer prophetess. Hermes is fast but he is not fast enough to escape attention from one with the sight."_

"_I would humbly and with a grateful heart accept any aid the gods are willing to offer. I thank you for caring enough to come in person to help us in our time of need for I know that you did not have to. And I am truly sorry for any offense I have given unto you," she said, bowing low._

"_Then you will continue your journey with these men. Call upon us only when the time comes and no sooner," she warned. "For we are not always able to help. Should the Fates decide otherwise, we must heed their counsel. It is not right for us to play fast and loose with fate."_

"_Thank you," Heracles said, noting Hermes staring at him with a faint sense of trepidation. Of all his divine siblings, he was the one who didn't have any real attachment to either Zeus or Hera – as far as he knew – thus, he'd be the one to figure out the truth if he put his mind to it._

_Heracles did not squirm under the look, though he wished to with all that he was. He did not like the way Hermes kept looking at him. It was as if something had finally clicked in his mind. Hermes looked like all the pieces of a mosaic had finally been put together and he had a complete portrait of the state of things._

_Athena nodded and disappeared. Hermes remained, intently studying Heracles with his strange blue grey eyes that were often so dark they appeared black. Feeling very awkward and out of place, Admeta made her excuses and left the two half-brothers alone, quite sure they didn't even notice her leaving._

"_So, Hera's your mother. I never would've guessed it," he finally spoke into the silence._

_Heracles stared at him, refusing to answer._

"_Oh, don't be like that," Hermes expelled an angry breath. "If I had meant to gossip about it, do you think I'd be here right now?"_

"_I don't know. You are the god of thieves and liars," he shot back, unable to hold in any kind of comment. "Not to mention you love to play tricks on people as Lady Athena wisely noted. It's one of the things you are most noted for among people."_

"_But I've never done so to you."_

"_Yet," he replied._

"_Hera's never given me a reason to hate her," his voice was quiet. "In fact, it is not known but she was the goddess who breast fed me as a baby because my own mother couldn't be bothered to do so. Maia, though I love her for defending me against Apollo's anger at my harmless prank, gave birth to me in a cave and wrapped me up in a blanket, falling to sleep shortly afterwards._

"_Why in the name of the Titans would I wish Hera pain?"_

_Heracles stared at him, processing his words. There could be some truth in what Hermes said. Certainly, he never knew of any case where Hera had been angry with the messenger. Even after he'd killed Argo, setting Io free from his watch, she had not gone after him as she could have._

_On the other hand, Hermes was almost as close to Zeus as Athena was. Why would he really care about Hera? It wasn't as if he hadn't worked against her a couple of times – and all at Zeus' request. "Because you may have some resentment, thinking that it was because of her that your mother had no interest in you. It is possible."_

"_Are you determined to be difficult?"_

"_I don't know," he shot back. "Are you?"_

"That must've been awkward," Iolaus interrupted the tale.

"You have no idea," Hermes' voice suddenly interposed itself into their midst. "And I'm hurt that you would trust him over me."

Heracles glared, angry to see him.

Angry to find out that he'd followed after him and listened to a conversation that didn't concern him. "I don't see why it should. I've known Iolaus and loved him for most of my life. He's one I count as brother. You aren't even really mine except through marriage.

"The only time I ever meet you, you've only brought news of labors to me. And the one time it wasn't, you had a message from Lord Zeus about helping the gods fight in the war against the Gigantes. So, why would I trust you over someone who has stood by my side my whole life? Who has fought many of my greatest battles with me?"

"Because Hera breast feeding me made me your brother through adoption," he snapped, hurt. While he knew that he had no real reason to be, he thought that Heracles had some measure of affection for him. A startling measure of trust, enough that the demigod treated him – not as a hindrance as many had – but as one he could count on to come through for him.

Heracles had been one of the few to treat him normally.

Now, he had to wonder, was it all pretence? Was it only because Heracles had thought they shared a father? If that was so, had he only been making the best of a bad deal? Had he only been trying to get along with him so that he wouldn't have any more godly enemies at his back? And if so, who was the real liar here?

For Hermes had loved Heracles as a brother.

"I thought you considered me a friend," he softly said, landing to sit across from them. The caduceus he often carried rested beside him as he stared at them, a hurt he couldn't quite hide in his eyes.

Heracles struggled for words, unable to find any to say. This was not a situation he was prepared to deal with. To him, everything still seemed to new for him to be able to handle any more stimuli. "Hermes, I do – Iphicles is my brother. He is also one I consider a good friend.

"Yet, I would not tell him of this.

"I would not even mention the possibility of it to my **wife**, the woman I loved – still love. Why would I tell you? I barely know you, though I do admit that you have been very kind and helpful." It didn't sound convincing even to his ears, though he meant every word of it. Hermes had been nothing but helpful to him and often gave him advice – mostly unsolicited, true. But he had been willing to help him.

Hermes sniffed dismissively, trying to shrug off his mood. Why should it bother him that he'd been so rejected, so ignored? To feel as though he wasn't trusted?

And yet, he couldn't help the fact that it did.

It hurt deeply.

"Are you here with a message?" Iolaus asked. "Because if not, I could leave the two of you to talk. I'm beginning to disgust myself."

"No," Hermes said. "I was just in the area – really. My son's nearby, expecting his first child. I thought it would be a nice touch if I visited him. I'll see you around."

"Hermes," Heracles started but stopped, unsure of what to say.

"Save it," he replied and left.

Iolaus looked at Heracles and noticed the thunderous expression there. As a result, he held his tongue, though he could not help but wonder what that was all about. There was something in Hermes' manner that reminded him of his own feelings of jealousy at the family Heracles had.

Was it possible that the god was envious of Heracles?

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_Author's Note : Bellerophon is Poseidon's son here. When I first heard of him and his story, he was the parent attached to him. Hermes' situation and totally uncharacteristic emotional reaction will be explained in the next part._


	12. You Speak As If We Were Going To War

Hera looked up at the sound of a stifled sob. As it was such an unusual sound on Olympus, she rose to her feet and went in search of the source. She'd had another long talk with both Aphrodite – before she had finally left for the conference – and Thetis, trying to make both goddesses see that they couldn't be at war with each other.

The situation between Troy and the Achaeans was tense enough. The last thing they needed was for war to erupt between the gods themselves, forced to take sides in a battle of mortals. She knew that it was inevitable because of Athena and Demeter's pivotal roles in the war situation – not to mention Aphrodite's inadvertent actions – but she had hoped to minimize the damage slightly.

Neither had listened to her.

Turning the corner, she stopped in surprise. "Hermes, my child, what is wrong?" The words came to her lips before she could prevent them from escaping and she stopped, stepping back. This wasn't her place as it would have been with a flesh and blood child of her own.

While Hermes had often welcomed her advice, he never sought her out. He hadn't seemed to need her parenting or her approval like Zeus' other children had. The only other one who had remained independent of her mothering ways had been Athena.

"I'm sorry. I'll leave you…" her words went unfinished as she suddenly found her arms holding onto the distraught god. All she could think was _Oh, gods, was it his child_? Like Zeus' mortal children, Hermes' had found themselves in trouble far more than she felt comfortable with – though Hermes found their antics amusing, especially Autolycus'.

Hermes felt her arms surround and hold him, steadily rocking and soothing him. She smelled of fresh flowers and grass. After a while, he allowed her to guide them to a bench under a big oak tree and sat down, half in her lap as though he were still a child.

And still, he could not say what troubled him.

Keeping quiet until he found the words to speak, Hera just held him, rubbing his back in soothing circles.

Zeus turned the corner and stopped, struck by the sight of his wife holding Maia's son. Flashing back, he recalled another situation like this.

_An eyebrow rose in inquiry at the sight of his gorgeous wife with her pale robe half opened and a strange baby boy with fine, brown hair that would surely darken with time, suckling eagerly upon her breast. He'd never quite figured out how she managed to have milk for a baby when she was not in the stages of pregnancy. Not that he was complaining for it was useful, he just found it odd. "Something you haven't told me, my love?"_

_Her humming paused and she looked up at him momentarily before returning her attention to the child. His blue grey eyes sparkled up at her, a tiny fist kept trying to grab the loose strands of red that escaped her bun. "Don't be ridiculous," she scoffed, hand cradling the soft head. Catching his fingers, she pressed a tiny kiss upon them._

"_I heard crying near one of my Temples and went to investigate. That's when I found this little guy wrapped up in a thick blanket, struggling to get out. I saw no parent around. Far be it for me to deny a child some love when that child will soon become part of our family. This is one of yours, I believe. So, which goddess was it this time?"_

"_How would I know?" He leaned against the wall, staring at her lovingly. Indulgent of her quirks, he supposed that they were harmless enough. Especially since this one allowed her to love his other children, not hate them, "The only goddess I've had a child with – outside of you that is – that I pay any attention to is Demeter."_

"_And only minimally because you know she'd take your head off with her sickle if you did more."_

"_She could try," but there was very little confidence in his voice. Of all his sisters, currently Demeter was the one he was the most wary of. He supposed he would never have to worry about Hestia for , unlike the rest of them, she was a peace maker. Pushing himself up, he walked over and sat down, reaching out a hand to touch the child's head. "I think he's Maia's but I'm not sure."_

_Shaking her head, she clucked her tongue in disapproval. "Maia? Atlas' very shy and reclusive daughter? No wonder he was left alone. You know she's never been good at dealing with pressure. You really need to stop fathering children all over the place, Zeus. Soon, there will be more of them than there is of us. And then what are you going to do? Start a war to weed them out?"_

_He looked thoughtful, "That's not too bad an idea."_

"_That's not very funny," she reproved him. "Think of all the anger, the pain, and the needless loss of life? Would you really be so cruel as to do that to mortals just to rid the world of a few demigods? Do you not think that would remove you from the justice you are well known for and make of you a dictator? Would it not be best to just not have children with mortal women?"_

_His hand left the boy's head to curve against her cheek, stroking softly. Since she had yet to flay him alive – or storm away – he felt safe enough to do so. "You have a point, my love."_

"_About the war? Or you not having any more children with mortal women?" she archly asked, knowing of his ability to twist her words into whatever meaning he wished them to have._

_Leaning closer, his breath caressed her lips. Teasingly replying, his mind already on other matters, "I have no intention of starting a war over children."_

"_That isn't quite the appropriate answer to the questions I asked," she replied, shivers of expectation running down her spine. Easily shifting the baby in her arms up to her shoulder, burping him even as Zeus softly brushed his lips against her own repeatedly, never pausing for long enough to quench their rising passion._

_Suddenly, the boy burped and a laugh escaped her – a laugh swallowed up by his mouth as he took deeper possession of them. Mind racing, her hand momentarily left the baby's back to stroke his face, feeling his hand trace her neck, avoiding the child as it worked its way down the line of her throat and touched her naked breast._

_The boy's fist whacked his cheek and he pulled back, slightly surprised. "I think that's the first time any child has dared to hit me."_

"_It's your own fault," she replied, breathing erratically. "He was here first." A hand pulled up her robe, covering herself once more._

_He gaped at her, unable to believe what he'd just heard. "Hera!" he protested. "I believe I was in your life before he was even __**born**__."_

_Calmly, she moved the baby down, undoing the knot on the other side of her robe to offer him her other breast. He latched on hungrily and she wondered just how long he'd gone without eating. "Nevertheless, I was holding him first and you interrupted us. Was there something you wished besides to molest me in the garden?"_

"_Molest is such an interesting word to use," he commented with a sly grin. "I thought I was greeting you."_

"_Oh, I forgot. You greet everyone with a series of kisses like that," she paused and glanced at him mischievously through her lashes. "Poseidon must absolutely __**adore**__ it when you do so to him."_

_His shoulders shook with laughter. "Hera, my love, you are my joy. You know you're the only one who gets greeted like that – since you would disapprove if I were to throw you over my shoulder and carry you off to our rooms for a proper welcome."_

"_I disapprove of you on general principle," she dryly retorted._

"_Then why did you marry me?" he asked, his arm curving around her shoulder to pull her into his side._

"_Moment of insane weakness which caused me to believe that it was a good idea to say yes," she primly replied. His laughter mingled with her own in the garden. "What are you going to name him?"_

"_How about Hermes?"_

"_Do you like that name, little one?" she asked softly, tenderly. Though it was hard to tell over the swell of her breast, he seemed to smile just a little. "Then Hermes you shall be. Though I suppose we will have to return you to Maia when you are done, she deserves to have you back," it was said almost sadly but with the knowledge that it was the right thing to do._

"_She may truly have abandoned him," Zeus pointed out, feeling her head fall onto his shoulder._

"_Not Maia," she rejected the idea firmly. "She's shy, but she's not the kind to abandon family. Something else must have happened."_

_Not replying, for he knew that she had made up her mind, he wondered just how right she was. But until he had more information upon which to work from, he could hardly make an honest judgment call. As Themis was fond of pointing out, it was hardly justice if one condemned a person without getting all the facts. He supposed that he should get up and initiate the search for the facts, find out what really happened to the baby and to Maia._

_But he could do that later. For right now, Zeus was content to hold her and watch her. It was something he loved to do and rarely had the time to do. Just being with her made his whole, often chaotic world make sense. There was a calm center he found with her. He reached out, stroking her cheek before letting his newly found son hold onto his finger._

_And when she passed him over, telling him to burp his son – his little Hermes – he made no objection._

Coming out of his thoughts, he backed slowly up and left them alone. As much as he wished to ask what was wrong, that little voice inside that he was starting to listen to said that it was not the time. Unlike the last time he had found them together, his son and his wife needed privacy. Though his actions were well intentioned, they would only impede the two of them.

Turning around, he went to talk to Apollo. It was about time he corrected the boy on the egregious oversight of skipping him when it came to Hera's child – even if it was a mortal one he knew nothing of. If the problem was so dire that an Oracle was speaking of it, he had a right to know and share that burden with his wife.

They were his children too.

Hermes pulled back and looked up at Hera, noticing the tears on her face. Tears she was sharing with him without even knowing why she was doing so. A gentle hand wiped his own away, brushing a tiny kiss on his cheek and he sank into her embrace once again. "Do you think that I am nothing more than a worthless liar?"

"Child, what makes you think that?" she asked, startled. While she'd often thought that he was too fond of tricking others, she'd never thought of him as just a liar. A creative speaker, certainly, but he wasn't a full out, constant liar for he knew the value of the truth. Not only the value, but the necessity of speaking the truth even when doing so caused pain to the listener.

And he knew when to keep silent and when to speak up.

"Is that why you don't trust me?" he asked instead of answering. It wasn't like him to be so emotional, so doubting of his place in the scheme of things. He, himself, couldn't quite explain why he was feeling so emotional. There was a tiny voice in the back of his mind that mocked his emotions even as it told him the truth.

And the truth is that he knew _exactly_ why he was feeling this way. "Is that why no one will trust me?" the second question was more of a soft wail.

Hera was silent, trying to think of an answer his question. Her hand cupped his chin and tilted it up to her own so that she could look him in the eye. "Has something happened to give you the impression that we can't trust you when we do?"

His grey eyes were drowning in sorrow as they locked with hers. "Heracles is your son – _**and you didn't tell me**_. I would've kept your secret, Hera."

"I know you would've," she replied, brushing his hair away from his eyes. "My darling child, you may be flippant and a bit of a prankster when you want to be. But you also realize that there are times to be serious and in those times, you prove just how trustworthy you are. My secrecy had nothing to do with your character. For I consider you a son of my heart.

"The secret was kept, not because of your level of trustworthiness, but because of the situation at hand. I was pregnant with another man's child, Hermes. I had done the _unthinkable_. As the goddess of marriage and family, it was my duty to remain faithful to my husband _even though we were separated_. I had not done so for I had fallen in love with another.

"This in and of itself was not a bad thing. I erred when I yielded to the passion in my heart. When I slept with another man, I broke my vows. When I allowed him to live in my home as though he were my spouse, I sinned and did it with no fear. He was a part of my life – and I had every intention of leaving Zeus. Of allowing him to marry again," she paused, "You know the result of that action.

"My loving child, never think that it was about you." Brushing his cheek again, she smiled at him. "I know that you are hurt but I hope that you can forgive me for whatever you blame me for."

Hermes rested his head on her shoulder, "If you can forgive me. I guess…I was always the youngest son to you because you never really cared for Dionysius, though I know that you have come around. I've been your baby boy for so long, I never thought I would be replaced. Then, I find out that you had another baby boy – one of your flesh and blood. A part of me thought you would love me less.

"And I was hurt that no one told me anything. Apollo knows," he added, the realization setting as he recalled the twins' odd behavior at the party. "I'm pretty sure that Artemis does to."

"He has the Pythias to tell him such things. And they trust her as they do him," she reminded him softly. "Things aren't always as simple as they appear to be, Hermes. One must eventually learn to look beyond what is seen to what is truly there."

After a while, he climbed off of her lap. Returning once again to the god of mischief, of light hearted fun, that she knew only too well.

But the shadows in his eyes disturbingly remained. "What are you going to do?" he asked. "This secret is bound to get out to others – and they may not be so kind. Or half so understanding," he added, thinking of Athena. Now, there was one goddess he never wanted as an enemy.

With a sigh, she nodded. "I know. Some time today, I shall talk to Zeus. It may be time to have a family meeting, to reveal everything so that there will be no more lies. I can trust you to gather the family without giving away the reason for the meeting." It was not a question.

She knew she could count on him for his secrecy and discretion.

"Best warn Heracles first, Ares is sure to have a fit," Hermes commented, trusting that Zeus would continue to be open-minded and protect her from Athena. While he knew that Hera could hold her own against any foe, it was quite likely that she would not do so in order to keep the peace between her husband and his daughter. Even if that meant being harmed and allowing Athena to harshly attack her, with words and weapon.

Her eyes closed thinking of her hot headed son meeting up with her mortal one – the mortal one who had done so much to humiliate him. And visions of them fighting each other for eternity filled her mind. "Thank you," she murmured. "You are quite right. I had best go see him, explain why it is necessary."

"Let me do it," he impulsively offered, though he knew she wanted to spend time with her son. After having to keep herself from his side for so long, she longed for a reason to see him. He felt some guilt at wanting to take warn him but he had his reasons.

Explaining, almost ashamed, at her look of inquiry – for he had no reason to keep quiet. Not to her, "I have to apologize to him. And I need to do it before I lose my nerve."

"Why would you need to apologize?" she asked, confused.

"Let's just say I didn't like being replaced."

Still not quite sure she understood, she accepted his reason easily enough. "All right."

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Hera rested on the bed, reading over a few petitions and trying to decide what to do for each of them. Her veil had been retired to its place in her dresser, though her hair remained pulled back for she didn't need the loose strands distracting her. So lost in thought was she that she didn't realize that Zeus had entered the room until warm lips brushed against her neck.

Her face moved to intercept the next kiss eagerly. Titans, but this was almost exactly like the early years of marriage when all they wanted to do was make love or hold each other. The scroll in her hand dropped to the bed, forgotten for the moment. It took some effort but she kept the kiss relatively innocent. It couldn't be completely innocent as this was her husband but she could prevent it from becoming something more – for the moment.

"Zeus," she moaned his name.

He pulled back sitting down, recognizing the difference between a moan of want and a moan of protest that generally meant _we need to talk_. An eyebrow rose as he teasingly asked her. "You're not going to tell me that we can't do this, are you? That it's in the middle of the afternoon and one of our children may need us?"

She laughed gaily, her hand cupping his cheek affectionately. Gentle fingers traced the line of his nose, she nuzzled his cheek. It was so strange, this bubble of happiness that continually seemed to swell up within her no matter how many times she tried to calm down.

"You're not convincing me that you want to talk, Hera, not that I'm complaining."

"Of course you wouldn't. Complaining while I'm appreciating you isn't something you would do," she laughed again.

Zeus shrugged, "If I were appreciating you, you wouldn't complain."

She gave that some thought, then nodded.

It was, after all, true.

"I was going to say that we need to talk about something soon. Since it wasn't an emergency, I just wanted to make you aware of it. But, since you wish to speak of it now, we will. Hermes knows, as does Artemis and, I'm sure you've figured it out, Apollo." There was no need to elaborate on what she was referring to – there really was only one thing it could be.

"Yes, I realized that it had to have been Heracles you were talking about. Not Ares," he replied, waving his hand so that the scrolls were relegated to the dresser. Leaning back against the headboard, he pulled her up with him, loving the automatic way she curled into his side. "So, what do you want to do, my love?"

Drawing up her legs, she rested her head on his shoulder. "Run far, far away and not face the truth," she said, only half seriously. With her past and all the actions against mortals and immortals that she had perpetuated, she had no wish to face the laughter and condemnation that was sure to come as a result of what she had done.

"You know better than that," he replied, stroking her arm in comfort. "The truth always comes out and finds you, no matter where in the world you are. Or believe me, I would've taken you there by now."

"No matter what we do the reaction is going to be unpleasant – especially from Ares," she sighed. "I don't know what to do about that boy."

"Hera, he's hardly a boy," he dryly commented.

Looking up at him, she quirked a smile, "With the way he acts, how can you say that with a straight face?"

Laughing, he shook his head. "You are irrepressible."

"Would you have me otherwise? Besides naked?" she asked archly. "Which I am sure to be in a few minutes anyway, so that doesn't count," she added.

"Try seconds," he whispered in her ear. Voice low with intent, his fingers traced patterns across her exposed skin, feeling her shiver against him. After the past few days and nights, he was beginning to realize that she was anything but.

It was a marvelous journey or discovery, one he hoped would never end. There were layers of his wife he'd never knew existed and hoped the mystery never ended. "We'll call for a family council – making it clear that it has nothing to do with the War – and face them together."

"Are you sure?" she asked, half rolling so that she was nearly lying on top of him.

"Well, you won't let me continue to be known as his father," he pointed out.

"It isn't fair to you – or to him that this lie continues. I could not act as though he were merely a stepchild," she argued, holding his face steady so that their eyes remained locked. This was too important to be talked over with half glances. "At least among us the truth should be known. Someday, someone will figure it out and the fall out will be tremendous. But I haven't yet decided if mortals should know."

"It would be best if they remain in ignorance," he decided, thinking about how some of the men chose to behave when he'd slept with their wives or daughters. To many females had been harmed because the males had reacted badly, even if they had earlier professed that they would be pleased and honored should the mighty Zeus turn his attention upon them.

Mortals. Who could figure them out? "But you are right. We are eternal and sooner or later, someone else will figure it out. Best to get it out of the way before that happens and everything goes up in flames. Should that happen, we would no longer be able to control the outcome."

"That's one of the things I love about you," she told him, smiling at him. Her fingers ruffled his hair. "Your take charge attitude and Tartarus to the consequences – even if it's often caused more trouble than it's worth."

His lips gently traced the side of her face, heading towards her lips. "It's one of the few good traits I have."

"Yes, the rest are all on display when you are horizontal," she remarked, bringing their lips together.

With one hand holding her close, he removed the pins holding her hair back. Fanning it out, he let his fingers get tangled up in her hair momentarily before dropping down to unfasten the buttons on her robe. Her own hands made short work of his kilt, pushing it off the bed. As they fell onto the mattress in a tangle of arms and legs, her hair spilling about them, laughter filled the room.

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Hermes appeared on the road, falling into step beside Heracles and Iolaus. Without waiting for a word of greeting from them, he said as sincerely as only he could, "I'm sorry. I was jealous of you."

So startled by the apology that Heracles stopped dead. What was even more shocking was the reason for Hermes' behavior towards him. Stopped dead and stared at Hermes in blank incomprehension, "Did you just apologize to me?"

"Yeah, don't get used to it," he warned. "It's probably the only one you will ever receive from a god."

"Noted," he replied with a slight smile. "Anything else? Or did you want to join us at the tavern? We're going to show the people that Iolaus isn't some monster worthy of death."

"I'd love to but I have to gather the gods for a family meeting. Actually, that's why I'm here," he paused. Not for dramatic effect but to make sure that no one was close enough to overhear him. "Hera and Zeus are going to tell the family about your real parentage."

"What?" was all he could say. Heracles felt the ground fall out from beneath him and was thankful he wasn't walking. If he had been, he was sure he'd fallen flat onto his butt.

"Hera is admitting the truth," Hermes was obliging in restating his warning.

"Why?" Iolaus asked since it seemed Heracles couldn't – or wouldn't. Not that he could blame him. Things were going rather fast for his friend. There just didn't seem any kind of breathing space being given to him.

Hermes shifted to his other foot, indicating that they should move on. "Sooner or later someone else will figure out the truth – and that someone may not react kindly to Hera. As you are well aware, she is quick to punish those who arose her anger. Even if they are gods, she does not hold back when she reacts."

"Now, I really do need that drink," he muttered, thinking of only two other deities who fell into the category of vindictive right away – Ares and Athena. Ares already wanted to harm him, not only because he humiliated him in battle, but because of the theft of Hippolyta's girdle.

Somehow, he had a feeling that the revelation would lead Ares to believe that Heracles' mortal father had taken advantage of Hera. That she had not been a willing partner to their relationship and would take it out on him. For it would never occur to him that Hera would willingly choose to have an affair.

And Athena would be angry because Hera had betrayed her daddy. He knew that she'd lost control of her emotions in a mock battle once and killed a friend who'd shown some sexual interest in Zeus. As a result, she'd become more guarded of her feelings. More aware that she needed to keep absolute control over herself.

The warrior goddess had become logical and had a rational approach to battle. And to life, but her control could possibly break when it came to Zeus. Of the two, it was Athena's reaction he feared the most.

"Are they going to harm her?" Iolaus tentatively asked.

"If Zeus stands beside her, they wouldn't dare. There aren't many gods foolish enough to go up against him unless they are backed by a god who is his equal in power. The only one there is that could pose a real threat to Zeus _**is**_ Hera. And he has her love and loyalty, so she won't fight against him again without a good, justifiable reason. Not only did she promise never to do so again, they have found some kind of new balance.

"But that does not mean that they won't go after _you_, brother," he warned. "Nor any of your friends."

"Mother Alcmene," he gasped.

Shaking his head, the god was quick to reassure him. "She has Hera's protection, as well as Zeus'."

Heracles shook his head, "I have to talk her out of this."

"Why?" Hermes and Iolaus both asked, rather shocked. It seemed such an odd stance for the hero to take. His life had been dominated by the search for why he existed, for a place with his divine family. Why would he want to stop that very thing from happening?

"Don't you want the truth to be known?" Hermes added.

"Not at the expense of my mortal family," he softly said. "While I was known as the son of Zeus, there was a kind of protection over me. It will be no less great under Hera, that I understand, but can you imagine if any should try to harm me or my own? Think about the kind of lioness…"

"Panther," Hermes automatically corrected. At their looks, he said, "Her preferred animal form is a panther."

"Fine, a panther she is. Can you see her ignoring that? Imagine the pain that is sure to happen to mortals caught in the crossfire," he shuddered. "I'd feel compelled to protect them which may mean going directly against her in order to do so. And I honestly don't know if I can do that."

Iolaus nodded, "There is that. But if they want the truth known, what can you do?"

Heracles conceded his point with a sigh. "Perhaps they would be willing to put it off for a few years. What with the situation at Troy, they need to have all their energies focused on it rather than on constant squabbling amongst themselves over me. They'll be arguing enough as it is on which side to take and who is right and who is wrong. You haven't given anyone else the message, have you?"

"Well, no," Hermes admitted. "I wanted to talk to you first."

"Could you please give them mine? Could you ask them to put it off for a time?" he asked, uncertain if he was allowed to do that. The messenger of the gods was strictly for the gods – a demigod hardly counted.

"Just this once," he agreed and left them.

"What'll you do if they refuse?"

There was silence as the reached the edge of the town, "I guess I'll have to accept it. It won't be something I like, but it'll be something I'll learn to live with."

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Hera stretched, feeling her husband's arm tighten around her, keeping her locked into the curve of his body. For the first time in eons, they had spooned each other throughout the night. Of course, it always left her neck sweaty and hair in more tangles than normal.

But…it was nice to have him with her. Smiling at that thought, she snuggled back into his warmth, loving the feel of his body before she realized that it was getting late. Carefully, she picked up his arm, moving it to the side.

"One would think that you didn't like sleeping in my arms," his sleepy voice said, his arm reclaiming its place. "Come morning, you always seem to flee from my side as though I was some guilty secret you have."

She looked back at him, smiling. Reaching up a hand, she brushed back a few strands of his hair so that she could see his eyes better, "Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you."

"I was mostly up anyway," he yawned, covering his mouth. Sliding back so she could lie flat, he brushed strands of hair away from her face. "Have to because I like watching you wake up."

"I'll try to sleep in from now on then," she replied, stroking his cheek. "You should get some more rest. I'm going to get things moving for the meeting today. Or whenever we can gather everyone together," she added wryly. Two key members to their family meeting were still away.

Suddenly, he was wide awake. Sitting up, his eyes alert and sharp as they studied her intently, looking for something but what it was, she did not know. "Hera, let's have breakfast in bed."

"Why?" she asked, shocked by this suggestion. In all their years of marriage, she'd never heard such a thing fall from his lips. Eating in bed had been more of her vice than his, one she knew he didn't quite understand. So, why was he suddenly willing to try it?

"Because I don't trust you to wait until I'm with you to tell everyone about Heracles," he said, seriously. "You have a nasty habit of taking the blame for everything that happened between us when I am just as much at fault. So, no, I am not going to let you face the family on your own."

"Don't you trust them?" She was surprised by this. In all the years she'd known him, she'd never heard him express distrust in any of them – except for her and Poseidon. Concern, worry, distaste but never had he said he distrusted them.

"No, I don't. Especially not Athena," he replied darkly, thinking of his favorite daughter. Of her protective stance when it came to him and how willing she was to defend him – even when he didn't particularly need or want that protection. "She's likely to see your actions as betraying me unforgivably and will react accordingly. I plan to shield you from that."

There was a knock on the door and she looked at him suspiciously when Iris entered with a tray of food – most of them her favorites. "Good morning, your majesties." On this morning, she was dressed rather plainly, lacking the extravagant colors she usually favored.

Blue eyes twinkled under blond bangs as she took in the rare sight of the King and Queen of the gods lazing in bed, open and unguarded. Even though she had known that Zeus wanted to surprise Hera, it was surprisingly wonderful to see them together, so loving and affectionate with each other.

It was a privilege she knew few experienced and was touched at the trust he showed in her. He could've chosen anyone for this, but he chose her. And she had done her best to make sure that everything went off perfectly. A not so easy thing to do with the unease moving through Olympus as a result of the contest and Prince Paris' decision.

"Good morning, Iris," she replied, sitting up and wrapping the sheet more securely around her as he rose.

"I trust that breakfast is exactly what you wished for, Lord Zeus."

Accepting it from her, he placed it on the bedside table and sat down. "Thank you, Iris."

Once the door had closed behind her, Hera shook her head. The breakfast looked and smelled wonderful. Leaning forward, she piled the pillows up behind her so that she wouldn't have to lean against the cold headboard. "You took a lot for granted that I would agree to this."

"Not really," he replied, pouring her some nectar. "As I mentioned, I was already up. I had just been drifting off when you started to awaken."

"Been planning this for some time?" she asked, rather touched by the effort he was showing. As she accepted it, she let her fingers brush against his.

"I meant what I said, Hera. This is to be a new beginning for us," he replied, sitting down across from her. For all his careful planning, looking at her so mussed and warm, he was tempted to just forget the breakfast – of food that was. But he had a plan and he was going to stick to it.

He just had to keep reminding himself of that fact. "Of course, you never did accept my proposal of marriage."

"Don't you consider my actions and words a response?" she asked, rather confused. Sipping the nectar before putting it on her side table, she recalled their couplings and couldn't figure out why he didn't think she'd answered him in the affirmative.

It wasn't as if she'd been at all shy with him.

"No," he said, leaning forward to drop a kiss on her lips. "So, while I hope that it won't take me another three hundred years to get an actual _yes_ from you, I'm going to court you."

"And this is your idea of courting?"

"This is my idea of pampering," he corrected her.

Laughing, she shook her head. "You don't need to do this."

"Oh, I think I do – especially since we'll need a plan of attack when facing the family later."

"You make it sound as though we are going to war."

"We might as well be," he ominously replied.


	13. It's Time I Get to Know Your Son

_Author's Note : Another heartfelt thanks to all my readers and reviewers for their constant support. We're actually nearing the end of this tale and I really have no idea about how I feel about it. I just hope that it continues to please everyone_.

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"Greetings, most honored King and gracious Queen," Hermes bowed before them.

"Hermes, I trust that all went well," Hera replied.

"Yes and no," he said, glancing over at Zeus.

He waved his hand. "No need to speak in tongues, I already know."

Rolling his eyes as if to say _I'm not dense. I know that you know_, he approached them. Bending low, he almost whispered, trying not to be overheard. "Heracles wants to delay the revelation."

"Did he say why?" she asked, not seeming to be hurt. While there was a tiny part of her that stung, she knew her son and the way he thought. At least, she hoped that it was more to protect his family than because he was ashamed to have her as his mother.

"No."

Zeus leaned over, resting his hand on her shoulder. "I'll talk to him."

She looked at him, rather surprised by the offer. It was so random and unexpected, she was hesitant to accept it. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," he replied, squeezing gently. "I think it's time I got to know this son of mine. And that he gets to know me."

Exchanging a cautious look with Hermes, she reminded herself that Zeus had accepted Heracles. That he wouldn't do anything to harm him.

An amused smile crossed his face, "Don't you trust me, Hera?"

"With everything but my body," she automatically replied, flushing when Hermes laughed.

"Oh, I can see why you keep her close," he teased.

"You know, Hera, you do nothing for my reputation," Zeus commented.

"Am I supposed to improve it? That's quite a miracle you're asking of me," she primly said. A movement to the left caught her eye, "Ganymede? Is everything all right?"

"Might I have a word with you, Queen Hera?"

"If you would excuse me, gentlemen?" she asked, rising to curtsy to Zeus – and found herself in his lap. "ZEUS!"

"Step one in improving my reputation, my love, is to make sure everyone knows that you really hate to leave my side."

"What has that to do with anything?" she queried, valiantly ignoring the heat on her cheeks.

"Everything," he replied, tracing the blush. "It means I'm so good, you don't want to miss a thing."

"Good but not breathtakingly amazing," she commented, regaining her composure and smirking at him. "Got it. All the hot loving must come from me then. I always suspected that I was the real action in bed." With a quick kiss, she departed before he could say anything.

Hermes shook his head. "And to think people call her a prude."

"Of all the things Hera is, a prude is not one of them. I'm beginning to realize that she just likes to keep the image of a respectable, married woman merely for appearances. And she's mine, all mine," he smiled, finally knowing it as truth.

Then his face fell, becoming serious. "What can you tell me about the situation with Troy?"

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Heracles was in the garden, back resting against an olive tree, dozing in the heat of the afternoon. A chill wind blew up the lane before circling about him, waking him up fully. He watched, half in dread and half in awe, as the wind became a figure.

The figure of a man that he recognized.

Standing up slowly, he bowed low and greeted, "Lord Zeus."

"Heracles," he said, moving to sit in the shade. "The Lady Alcmene is not at home?" It was idly spoken, buying him some time in which to study Hera's mortal son. Now that he knew the truth, it was far easier to see the similarities in him to his wife. As he took in his measure, he couldn't believe that he'd been so fooled. There was really nothing in the boy that spoke of either him or Alcmene.

"She hasn't lived here in a while, not since Rena gave birth to Solon." He warily watched Zeus for a moment, trying to judge his state of mind. All he was receiving from him was a blank wall. But he could swear that there was something more going on inside his mind than what he saw. If he could only decipher it, he was sure he'd be able to understand this god better. "Forgive my rudeness but what are you doing here?"

"Blunt," he observed, his elbow resting on the table. Leaning his chin upon it, he shook his head, eyes watching the other man. "I'm not sure that I like that from a mortal."

"You'll just have to get used to it," he retorted. "I'm not used to changing my manner for anyone and I'm not about to start now, even for the King of the gods," he snidely added.

"Mind you manners," he warned. "I'm sure that Alcmene taught you better than that."

"She did," he admitted, sighing quietly. There was something about the reminder of her that made him want to shuffle his feet and stare at his hands, waiting to be punished. Knowing that it wouldn't happen by Alcmene's hand was both a relief – and a fear. For any disciplinary action taken against him would come at Zeus' hand.

He hated being stuck in limbo. "Would you like something to eat or drink?"

"Let me be as blunt as you have shown yourself to be, Heracles. First off, I must tender my apology that this meeting has been delayed by a few days. It wasn't because we did not receive your message. As you can imagine, this thing with Troy has caused a lot of tempers to be frayed.

"And has disrupted much of Olympian life." There was a frown on his face as he said the words. It had been quiet a while since there had been any genuine laughter about the palace.

If there was one thing he hated, it was apologizing. He didn't think he had any reason to but Hera had been insistent upon him doing so. And he supposed that she had a point. After all that he had done for them, Heracles deserved to know that they weren't deliberately ignoring him.

It wasn't just their life they were disrupting with this news.

Surprised considerate apology, he gave a small smile. Perhaps this interview wouldn't be so bad. "Thank you. It's good to know that I wasn't an oversight."

"As you may have surmised from my words, this is not a social call. I want to talk to you about why you wish to keep the truth hidden from your Olympian family. The tasks you performed, though I am sure it wasn't Hera's intention, has earned you a place on Olympus. And you cannot reject it," he told him firmly before Heracles could say what Zeus knew was on the tip of his tongue.

"As you are the son of the Queen of the gods, it is something that the Fates have written. Your place is assured, would have been assured if all you had done was help us fight the Gigantes." There was firm resignation in his words for he knew that the last thing Heracles had ever sought was godhood.

The man was too tied to his mortal roots, to his mortal friends and family. Though it meant that he would join the ranks of the blessed immortals, his family, he would not see it that way. The only comfort Heracles would take from it would be the fact that he would be with his birth mother – and perhaps in the presence of Hermes for they had become something of true siblings.

At least, that is what Zeus thought for he'd seen the way the two had interacted.

Heracles sat down, numbly staring at him. "Go on," he hoarsely said, pale and shaking with shock. "I have nothing to ask." In the back of his mind there was a voice screaming about how unfair it was that he would receive this gift while Iolaus and Megara – both of whom had suffered alongside of him, had sweated and bled with him – would be utterly ignored.

After a moment more of silence, Zeus continued, rather impressed. "As this immortality will happen, the chance of keeping the secret will become that much more complicated over the centuries. Little do you realize how hard it is to keep _anything_ a secret for long, though I am sure that you have some idea.

"I believe the only reason Hera was able to keep you a secret for so long was that she chose an ally who kept her close – and her secrets even closer. Not to mention, she kept away from all life on Olympus. If not for my going to her, asking for her to be with me in the meetings held, I am not sure we would have seen her at all."

His eyes went distant, focused on the far mountain. Thinking of the loneliness and the pain of the separation, the strangeness of what life had been like all those years. "For all her physical presence in our home, she might as well have been as absent from Olympus as she had been for all those years. I felt so far away from her side, even when she sat beside me…it was as if I had been cut in half and left with the dead husk of what once was.

"With no chance of ever regaining it," he trailed off, temporarily lost in thought. Hera always made him forget what he was doing in favor of thinking about her. It had always been that way for him. It was one of the few reasons he could understand the lust in men's hearts for her.

It didn't mean he'd turn a blind eye to it, but he could understand it.

"You really missed her." He sounded completely shocked, incredulous. The idea that the mighty Thunderer could miss his wife so much was so unreal that he could only stare at him, shaking his head in wonder. It didn't fit in with everything he'd ever learned of the god.

But it did fit in with what his mother had told him.

Both of them.

"I have a heart, Heracles. Point of fact, my wife _**is**_ my heart," he snapped, angry. "Why does everyone find the idea that I love Hera so incredibly unbelievable?"

"Because you rarely act as though you do," he harshly pointed out. Then he had to be honest and admit, for it wasn't always upon Zeus that such blame should fall – even if he often did nothing to discourage it. "And people are far more interested in talking of your marital disputes than your marital happiness."

"Well, they are going to have to redirect their interest," he retorted, "For I have no intention of straying again."

Heracles shook his head. "And you think me naïve. Do you really think any of them will care about the truth? You could become a celibate monk and some warlord or king may decide that they needed the prestige of being a part of your lineage. Or carving a place for themselves as a new part of it by allowing their daughter – or wife – to become pregnant through supposedly mystical means. Ergo, a child is born from your rather fruitful loins.

"Have you ever slept with a woman and _**not**_ gotten her pregnant?"

His eyes narrowed and he inhaled sharply. "I'll forgive you just this once because you are Hera's child. But don't you think that you can continually disrespect me and get away with it, Heracles. My patience towards you will not always be this generous."

"That's a relief," he replied, almost sarcastically. "I was afraid you'd treat me as though I was some kind of honored pariah for the rest of eternity."

"Last warning," the words were almost a hiss of a sound.

"You have my thanks for being so patient with me," he said, keeping his voice even with effort. It was rather true that he was thankful that Zeus hadn't struck him with lightening – or something for he had to have had other weapons in his arsenal. But the almost distantly respectful, cool attitude he was getting unnerved him.

It wasn't that he wanted to be hurt or cursed – no one in their right mind wanted that – but he wanted some kind of _something_ from him. A real way of knowing what the god actually thought about him. It didn't seem quite real that the god would accept him just because he loved his wife.

Most men would not be half so understanding, even with love in their hearts. "Can you not consider putting aside the revelation until I am on Olympus itself, since that seems to be the outcome of my eventful life."

"Why?" he asked, waving a hand to conjure up some refreshments. Though quite willing to sit outside like this, he would not suffer through what mortals called food and drink. He did concede to making food for Heracles' palate – the boy wouldn't be ready for Olympian fare until after he'd lost his mortal self.

There was silence between them as Heracles gathered his thoughts together. Trying to be as concise as possible without oversimplifying the situation as he saw it. "I know that it will come out. That isn't something that I wish to deny. The trouble is that I'm sure that there are those who react unfavorably to the news. And I'm relatively sure that there won't be any attack on me.

"Well, Ares might just because he is that type of irrational god but the full weight of attack would be upon my family. It is they who will be put in the line of fire.

"My heart wouldn't allow me to ignore any that may be hurt in the crossfire, which might only make the situation worse for Hera," he stumbled on her name for it felt wrong to casually call her by name. But he knew it wasn't time to call her mother.

At least, not in front of Zeus.

For all that he seemed to accept it, he didn't think he should press him again. "It isn't fair or just to hurt them anymore, though I am aware that the gods have the right to do whatever they want to mortals. The moral code you live by isn't the same one I was raised to believe in. I understand that.

"I do," he reiterated.

"I just don't want people harmed because of me. It's bad enough that there is to be a war with the Trojans. The armies of the Achaeans are already gathering together. A ship has been sent ahead to scout out a path, to report on the land and the supplies we'll find there. And what we should take with us. Odysseus has already been in contact with me and asked me to join his group."

Rubbing the back of his neck, he shook his head. "I haven't entirely decided whether I am going to go or not. It all depends on which side she supports – or if she will remain neutral. If she is neutral, it will make my position rather difficult. While I would never fight with the Trojans – I have no personal ties with them save for Megara living in that area – I don't know if I could fight with the Achaeans."

"The Achaeans," Zeus told him. "She is supporting Demeter and Athena. It is more out of family loyalty than a true desire to see the Trojans pay that she does so. Even though she does feel that Paris and Helen are in the wrong, living the way they are, she does not condone that choice. As much as she wishes to be understanding, she cannot accept that Helen has abandoned her duties to her people so easily. She tries to be forgiving because she knows something of what she must be going through, but she just can't accept the cowardice of her actions.

"But it just isn't that she abandoned her husband and child. She did far more than that. Helen abandoned her role as both Queen and Priestess to the goddess mother," he added. "Such a calling is not to be taken lightly or ignored for there are certain rituals that must be observed." Certain rituals of a sexual nature, but he didn't think he should mention that to the boy.

Shaking his head, Heracles decided not to pursue the topic. Something told him that he _really_ didn't want to know any more. Of course, there was a light in Zeus' eyes that reiterated the feeling. "In my opinion, the last thing you need at this time is added stress. Revealing that Hera is my mother would do that. It's not that I don't want the truth known, I do. For most of my life, I've wondered just why I was born.

"Why I was never acknowledged as your son, even privately. Others, less blessed in strength than I was, you openly claimed. I know that your wife," that felt even worse than calling her by name, "was a reason for that silence, but that doesn't figure into the journey my life was on before she told me the truth. While many tasks seemed geared towards my death, that didn't work when I realized that I was learning to control my gifts.

"I'm sure if she had wanted me dead, I would be.

"That's when I remembered a few incidents in my youth when a woman's voice would comfort me. A strong hand, but one that was to soft and delicate to be a man's, would rest upon me, would offer me strength and comfort when I was lost or didn't know which was to turn. These contradictions puzzled me, so I started to question what everyone was saying. Question what I had thought and believed, what I had accepted easily as truth even when I was not told anything specific.

"So, it isn't a matter of not wanting people to know the truth. There is nothing I would like more than to be able to talk to my mortal family openly, but that just isn't possible right now.

"There is just to much at risk right now. Not only to me, but to those on Olympus. Can you imagine the further chaos that will be thrown into the mix with the guessing game?" He fell silent. He'd said all that he could think of to convince Zeus that it would be best to wait.

Because he knew that in the end, it was all up to Zeus.

After a few minutes of silence, he nodded. "I'll talk to Hera."

"Thank you," he replied and was left alone. Sitting back, he began to think about the meeting he'd just had. It had gone rather well, or so he hoped. Before he could get to deeply into thought about what transpired – which may or may not have been a good idea – he heard several people come up the pathway. As it was rather unusual for their city was in the season of rest, he stood up.

Walking to the fence, he looked to see who it was with some trepidation.

If it was Iolaus, everything would be all right.

But his cousin was visiting with Megara, needing to speak to her of Nebula and what he should do. Also, he needed to put their own nebulous situation to rest for he did feel some kind of affection for her that was deeper than sibling or friendship alone explained. Not enough to make marriage between them a good idea, but enough that he felt they should talk.

He wasn't due back for another two days.

So, it could only be Odysseus. As he had yet to answer his missive, he figured the Ithacan was coming to see him in person. He supposed that he did owe him some kind of explanation for the prolonged silence, but he wasn't exactly sure of what to say.

Admitting the truth was out but no other reason would make sense to the cunning man. As a storyteller without peer, he could always tell when someone was lying to him. There was a gift and a curse associated with that gift of his. It made him a very disconcerting companion to travel with.

The man he saw was **not** his friend – either of them. It wasn't even someone he knew but rather one he had heard something about. "King Menelaus?" he guessed as the man stopped in front of him.

Though shocked to see the man he only knew from a rather broad description, he knew that his guess was no tentative query. He looked exactly like Odysseus had described him. Short, brownish red hair, and small eyes set in a face of aristocratic arrogance. This was hardly the kind of man one took lightly.

It was a wonder that Paris had even dared for in that hard face one could see battle tested strength.

As this was one ruler he had no personal connection to, he couldn't be sure he knew what he was doing here. And he wasn't entirely sure of how to act around him. Of all the kings outside his own hometown that he was personally associated with, only Odysseus was one he counted as friend.

"Heracles," the man's voice was deep, resonate. "I am pleased to see you at home. May we come in?"

Opening the gate, he gestured for them to enter and follow him into the house. Once they had been seated, he went to the back to get some drinks. "Forgive my lack of manners but I wasn't actually expecting anyone. I do not have much but what I have, I freely offer it to you."

"I know you did not expect us. So, I thank you for your generosity," he admitted, accepting the jug with a small smile of thanks. His free hand wiped away the thin sheen of sweat upon his brow. Though it was marginally cooler inside, the heat of the day still hung heavily in the air. Shifting momentarily, he watched him warily.

As Odysseus had promised him, there was nothing terribly distinctive about him. The man presented himself modestly, though he could see the infamous lion's cloak and the club he was noted for resting in the far corner of the room. If they'd met on a street, he was sure he would pass him by, not even sparing him a second glance without good reason.

Certainly, he didn't have the unusual height or obvious strength of Ajax. A strength that was backed up with the skills he'd learned at Chiron's hand. Now, there was a man who should have had a divine parent and had none, though his grandfather was Zeus. As such was the case, it might explain his strange gift of strength.

Ajax was one man he was glad would be on their side in this conflict, though he wasn't sure the man had forgiven him for winning Helen's hand.

And yet, this Heracles carried about him a presence that could only be explained by a divine parent.

Somehow, though, it was different than his brothers-in-law Pollux had. That was something he hadn't been expecting for they had the same father. Of course, his circle of demigods was rather small, consisting of only the twins. So, perhaps, the difference had to do with their mother.

"You didn't answer Odysseus and as I was coming this way after seeing my brother, I offered to see you," he finished his explanation, having come to no conclusion about this man.

Heracles sat down and contemplated him. So far, impressed. After travelling and meeting as many people as he had, he was willing to trust his gut which said that this was an honorable man. "I only recently arrived. While the missive was waiting in my brother's care, I have had little time in which to think about what to do.

"As for my plans," he paused, thinking of what to say, "That I cannot say. My experience with Troy has been rather pleasant, for all that they reneged upon our deal when I saved them from Poseidon's monster. Had I not had another task before me, I might have done some real damage to the town. But since they'd already lost most of the royal family to this monster, leaving only Priam alive, I saw no point in doing so."

Not to mention that Hera had basically stopped him with a vision of Deianeira in danger.

Almost had he doubted its reality for he wasn't prone to such things but Hermes had appeared and told him that it was time to save the town of Olenus from the centaur Eurytion. The choice between revenge upon an already grieving, damaged town and saving the woman he'd fallen in love with before leaving with the Argonauts was an easy one to answer – she won.

"And I was never part of the protective pact made by the suitors for Helen's hand in an attempt to prevent war over her choice, so I see no reason for me to go to Troy with you," he added. "I get that you've been offended but there must be another way to resolve this situation than siege and war."

Menelaus scoffed. But it sounded tired, dispirited. "Do you think we haven't tried? That man will not listen. We've tried diplomacy and offered a fair trade but he refused. He is dead set on keeping Helen as his own, even refusing to allow us to talk to her to find out what she wants. If I could just hear her say that she wishes to remain with him, I would allow it because she is my wife – and I want her happy more than I want to salvage my pain. But if Odysseus can't make that deal, do you think anyone else could?"

It was true. Not only was Odysseus cunning but he had a way of speaking to others that made some wonder if he wasn't somehow related to Hermes.

"War is our only option," he said. "There have been several prophecies concerning the fall of Troy. And while that is the last thing I want, it seems to be our only option for Paris won't even agree to single combat with me. As I am the offended party and he the offender, this battle should be between us alone. Perhaps seeing us arrayed in full force will convince him that we should parlay. That we should figure out a better way than war to solve this problem between the two of us.

"But I have little faith in that. So, it is unfortunate that, as things stand, only an army fighting to the death if needs be can get my wife back. Our daughter needs her."

"Why do you need me?" he felt it was a reasonable question. "I have neither the skill to lead an army, nor do I have one to offer. And before you offer to give me a few of your men, I haven't the patience for it. My preference has always been to work in a small group for that is where my talents are – in the small arena.

"The only war I've ever fought in was against the Gigantes and that was a battle of the immortal kind. In that conflict, I was but a small member of a much larger company. To a certain extent, I was protected by every one of the gods for they needed my skills in order to defeat the Gigantes. This is on another scale entirely.

"So, I again ask, why do you need me?"

"I appreciate your honesty, so I hope you won't mind honesty in return."

Heracles gave him a smile. A smile which seemed more like a smirk. "I prefer directness, sire."

"It isn't you we really need – it's your bow and arrows," he said.

"Ah," he was silent for a moment. "You realize that there are only four people in the world who can actually use my bow because of the way it was built and strengthened, right?"

"Iolaus, Philoctetes, Odysseus, and yourself," Menelaus listed the names that came to mind of mighty archers well known to Heracles. "Yes, I am highly aware of that."

"Not Odysseus," he corrected.

"No?" he responded, showing absolutely no interest in the fourth person. Perhaps, if he had thought it over, he would have asked. This unnamed person may be the one they were seeking if Heracles wouldn't come along with them. But it never occurred to him that the other man may refuse and hold steady to that refusal.

Not when there was treasure and honor to be found in the coming battle.

"Then you know that you need me as neither men will use the bow while I am alive," he pointed out. "There is only one living who would, but you would never consider asking Megara to do so."

He tilted his head to the side, studying his expression. "You seem surprised to hear me mention her. Now, why is that, I wonder. As a ruler in Sparta, surely you know that women have skills at arms and are often called upon to help in the defense of their cities and the surrounding countryside."

Menelaus conceded his point with a nod. He'd never had to do it himself for Sparta had been enjoying a healthy peace when he wed Helen. But he knew that it wasn't unheard of. "You may be correct about that. My surprise came more from hearing her named for I thought she was retired. That she was living quietly with the Amazons."

"In a way, she is. But Megara doesn't live quietly, no matter where she resides. It isn't her way when she knows that there is something that she can do to help in a situation. And she will not be reticent about doing what is necessary should I prove unable to do so," he replied.

Again, he conceded the point. "What is your answer, Heracles?"

Heracles sighed, not wanting to be trapped into anything he'd regret. As he'd learned from past experiences, a decision made in the heat of the moment was rarely the right one. Rashness led only to greater folly. "I must consult the Oracle – and then I must speak with the Priests of Queen Hera for I am indentured to her even unto this day. I could choose to go my own way, but I do not choose such a course of action. Should she wish that I not go, to her must I obey."

It was an answer worthy of Odysseus – and more powerful because Menelaus could sense the truth in it.

Heracles wasn't avoiding the situation out of fear of war or because he simply did not wish to go. While there may be a small part of him that had no desire to fight in a war – Odysseus hadn't wanted to go either – it was not why he wasn't giving them a definite answer.

No mortal was stupid enough to go against Queen Hera's will when they were in her service. Even those who were not marked by her in some way were careful in the way they acted and performed the ceremonial duties to all the gods. For to offend her was to incite a wrath greater than that of most gods, though that did not include her husband.

As one knew, it was not wise to offend Lord Zeus either for his revenge was immediate, swift, and promised to last all of eternity.

"If I decide to join you, I shall see you in Aulis," he promised. Noting the shadows lengthening across the floor, he glanced out the window and noted the lowering of the sun. There was an ominous coloring to it that he didn't care to see and he suppressed a shiver. It bore ill tidings for what was to come but they would come no matter what he felt, this he knew all to well.

"Would you care to stay here for the night?" he invited. "Or are you expected to feast with King Eurystheus?"

As royal visitors, it was required of them to present themselves to the ruler either when they arrived or the next day depending on the time of their arrival. To do otherwise was to invite questions about their true motives for visiting a neighboring kingdom. But perhaps he'd sent a messenger ahead to let them know of his arrival. Of the reason behind his mission.

Thus, it would be up to Heracles to take care of him and his party.

Menelaus looked about, noting the cleanliness and comfort of the upper chamber of the house. After so long of journeying and staying in palaces, the chance to stay in a small place so like his childhood home appealed to him. It would also give him a better chance to get to know Heracles. To allow the other man the chance to get to know him for he knew that would make them tighter allies should he decide to join them.

But he also knew that he should present himself to the ruler. If for no other reason than he knew what it was like to have a visitor who had violated the rules of hospitality. His hand clenched as he thought of the traitorous Paris, a man he'd accepted with open arms and his hospitality had been repaid with the theft of his wife.

And he had achieved his main goal, that being that he'd received his answer from Heracles. Granted, it wasn't precisely the one he wanted but it was one he could accept. It was only right that he honor the man for his commitment and accept his answer. And he wasn't stupid enough to risk Hera's wrath, not when he wanted her aid in the coming war.

"Know that I thank you for your hospitality and kindness. It is much appreciated but I must decline. Perhaps we shall stay for a night some time soon. We shall make ourselves known at the palace." Clasping arms as warriors did, they walked out and up the road.

Heracles shook his head and shut the door, eating a small meal. He was in such turmoil, he wasn't sure he could eat more. _What was he to do now_? Pondering the question, he climbed to the platform above and pulled the ladder up after him. Double checking to make sure his weapon was within reach, he settled down to sleep.


	14. How to Woo and Comfort Your Wife

_Author's Note : I give my thanks to my generous reviewers and hope that you will enjoy this chapter. We're getting down to the nitty, gritty final detail before TROY happens. I hope I can wrestle it into submission before my threads get too tangled_.

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Hera glanced down at Zeus as he entered the throne room, before continuing her talk with Athena, desperately trying once again to get her to see reason. Arguing that the destruction of Troy was hardly necessary to assuage her wounded pride. It was not their fault that Paris had made the judgment call that he had. Wouldn't it be more reasonable, more rational and befitting of her to allow the duel between him and Menelaus to punish Paris be the end of this conflict? To agree to the terms drawn up between the two men?

For Menelaus also had a grudge against the Trojan prince.

With honor, he tried to resolve the situation between them. First with words and then with this proposed fight between them. If Paris won, the gods would leave Troy alone. They would remove the Achaean threat from their shore. Although, they would require a price for doing so as Menelaus and the Achaeans were the offended party. But they would agree to this peace treaty.

Yet if Menelaus won, they would insist upon the return of Helen to her husband. No other payment would be exacted for the offender would be dead – even Aphrodite agreed with this. Of course, it was a reluctant agreement – in a way, it broke her promise to him.

But the fact remained that she had accepted the ruling for she wasn't foolish enough to go up against the will of the majority of the Council of the gods. Though she had no problem with the union of Paris and Helen, she had no desire to see a war descend upon the city for her son lived there.

Strangely enough, she actually seemed to care for the fate of her mortal son.

Her son would be called upon to fight – may perhaps even die as a result of Paris' actions. The mortal son who did not even know that she was his mother. Even with the prophecy that spoke of a child of her lineage continuing the race elsewhere, this did not necessarily mean that he would be the one to do so. It could be a child of his.

Unfortunately, the usually rational and level headed goddess was having none of it.

"Would you let it go if you were me?" she asked, knowing that Hera would do no such thing. Of all the things she was known for, pride was one of Hera's most distinguishing features. Even though her time among mortals had changed her, had softened the harsh angles she had, she was still a proud woman. That pride may have diminished over time but it was still.

Therefore, Athena knew that she was not out of line with her words. "I was insulted by him for he was looking merely at outer beauty, not adding in one's judgment or actions. Fair doesn't always translate into physical beauty or perfection. To allow him to think so is wrong and only allows for a woman's physical beauty, caring nothing for her inner self. I cannot allow that ideology to continue."

"Very well, though you know that such is the way of the world," she quietly sighed, having had the feeling that this would be Athena's answer. With how strongly Athena felt about things, it really was the only answer that would do for her. "With you and Demeter siding against the city, what else can I do but call for their destruction? If for no other reason than to keep Demeter from destroying everyone and everything by taking her place in the battle."

"You really have no say," she retorted.

Hera shook her head. "That is untrue for as the Queen of the heavens, such calls fall under my jurisdiction. None of the Fates have decreed that the destruction of Troy is a sure thing. They know that such a fate can be avoided if by my word I forbid such a thing. But I can see that you are set on this course – as is Demeter. Should I remain fully neutral, the cost to human lives would be great.

"As it is, there will still be a slaughter. Many lives will be lost and families will be rent apart. An entire generation of noble souls will be ruined. Still, it will be what it must be." Her sigh this time was heard and heartfelt. "Know that I throw my lot in with you and the Achaeans. Though I beseech you to carefully contemplate what it is you are about to do.

"If you still wish this, you need only to ask for my aid to receive of it."

"Thank you," Athena said, nodding in greeting to her father as she passed him descending the stairs. In the back of her mind, she wondered just what Hera thought she could do in war. While Hera was Queen of the gods, she had not been a true warrior in years – the battle of the Gigantes hardly counted.

And, as evidenced in the past, she had little control over Ares and what he chose to do. The only one who'd ever had even a semblance of control over him was Aphrodite. But since their rather public and almost violent break-up, they'd rarely been in the same room together.

It was very obvious that he was still in love with her – though for the life of her, Athena couldn't figure out why – for the love goddess was a brainless twit. All she had going for her was her looks. Though she had to reluctantly admit that since falling in love, or whatever Aphrodite was calling it, with her _Hephy_, she'd become tolerable.

Aphrodite had been more inclined to show off her mind rather than resorting to her body. It was unnerving to realize that there was more to Aphrodite than her beauty. Not that she was willing to concede that the other was fairer than she was. But she was willing to admit that there was something there.

As she thought over Hera's words, she had to admit that there was some comfort in knowing that she had her support for her father would remain neutral as befitted his position.

Zeus finished the climb and rested a hand on her shoulder. "Everything all right?" his voice was soft, gentle in the quiet of the room.

"No," she sighed and leaned her head against his chest, feeling his arms surround her. Comforting her. "They are both being so stubborn about this…it sickens me to know that I could so easily act in the same way. You know I have a tendency to take little stings and blow them way out of proportion."

"And Aphrodite?" he asked, rubbing a hand down her back, feeling her sag into him with more than a little concern for it wasn't in Hera to lean on his strength like this. He hardly knew what to do for she'd always been the strong one, always the one he relied upon.

Shrugging, her answer was rather monotone, "Has yet to come back from the conference with Hephaestus. So, as things stand, I don't know to whom she will give her support to. Or if she will even make a move to protect Paris whom she has made certain promises to, other than her initial move to protect him.

"While I'm pretty sure that Hephaestus will help all who ask, her actions are what concern me the most. You know that she has a habit of going full tilt at anything that crosses her path and then losing interest. Even united in a more fulfilling union with him, she has not changed all that much."

Pulling her to her feet, he fully embraced her, rubbing her back in soothing circles. He hated that this war was tearing her apart. This war that had yet to begin. It haunted all on Olympus in a way other mortal wars had not for there was a finality to this one that the others lacked.

And it had to remind her of the mortal war she'd experienced all those years ago. As such memories were in her mind, he knew that thoughts of her beloved Philon would also be there. He shouldn't begrudge the man those thoughts of hers for he'd been the bright spot in the midst of that nightmare.

It didn't stop the fact that he did.

Swallowing back those thoughts, he concentrated on her. On being there for her because what she said to Athena had been true, this call was in her hands, not his. The sheer amount of people involved on both sides meant that he couldn't play a more decisive role in the war. As he was the King of the heavens – and the ruler of the many diverse parties involved in the conflict, he had to take a neutral stance.

Though she was his Queen, it was up to her to take the stand as leader in any conflict that the gods were a part of or had a direct hand in even if they ignored the fact that the war evolved from their actions.

After a while, he gently pushed her away and tilted up her chin, "Let's get out of here for a while."

She didn't even ask where. Accepting his hand, she allowed him to lead her away from Olympus and all its stress and tension. Down onto earth they travelled, the breezes that surrounded them buffeting her mind. The journey didn't take that long, though she was hardly aware of it. Tired in heart and mind, she let him take control and lead her wherever he would.

Pushing open a door, he gestured for her to enter first and watched in some concern as she mindlessly did so. The worry fled when he saw her stop and look about her, an incredulous expression crossing her face. Familiar scents assaulted her, sending her back in time.

Light streamed in, filtered by the shutters but she could clearly see the simple furniture and the shelf with carefully restored pottery resting on it. Turning back to him, she smiled at him. The first genuine smile he'd seen cross her lips in a while.

"Oh, Zeus," she shook her head, overwhelmed by everything. The burden she felt pressing down upon her fell away, if only for a moment. "It's just as I remembered." Her voice trailed off in amazement as she walked about, pushing open the shutters to look out at the glade framed there, almost frozen in time. Even the lake was there, though it was larger and closer to the house than she recalled it being.

She almost expected to turn around and see them sitting at the table, talking and laughing over a jug of warmed nectar that slowly cooled, forgotten in the late afternoon. A plate of dates they occasionally partook of, far more interested in each other than in food or drink. The first time they'd kissed – really kissed, not an exchange of ritual kisses - had been at that table.

It had been soft, gentle, and somehow had managed to ignite her blood.

And it had been here that he'd proposed to her. Shivers ran down her spine at the memory.

"The original house is somewhere beneath the lake. But I tried to recreate everything as I remembered it," he softly said, coming up behind her to embrace her. "Unfortunately, I couldn't replicate your spirit to complete your surprise, so I must leave that up to you."

They stood in silence for a while, just watching the wildlife come and go. "I don't know what to say," she quietly admitted, awed.

"You don't need to say anything, Hera," he replied, pleased that his surprise delighted her.

"I love you," she looked up at him, saying it. The stress of the past few days fled as she stood there, in his arms, enjoying the peace of home. Both of the physical structure – and the place that always been home to her.

In that moment, she knew that he needed to read her eyes, to know that she truly meant it. She realized – with a sense of pained shock – that even as she had recommitted to him, even without his much coveted yes, that she hadn't actually said the words to him.

She wasn't the only one who needed to hear the words after all.

A slow smile crossed his face, showing that he appreciated it. His hand momentarily rose to trace her cheek, lovingly. "I love you." But he refrained from adding more, knowing that they really needed to talk about Troy and the Achaeans.

And she knew this too.

Though this was one conversation that she didn't want to have right now. She wanted to bask in the open, easy affection Zeus was showing to her. And marvel over what he had wrought for her. But she knew – as he did – that now was not the time for memories.

Now, it was time to be the King and Queen of the gods. To devote their attention to the lives of the mortals who served them and whom they protected in return. Mortals whom they had not cared much for in the beginning but now loved, seeing them as their children.

"I worry about the humans caught up in this war over pride. Both godly pride and mortal one," she admitted with a deep sigh. "And what of Helen herself? I fear that she has no idea what to feel and is just reacting to whatever stimulates her. What she may think is love may be lust – or it may truly be love for this Paris. Until one has truly seen into her heart, we cannot truly judge her situation."

"I know," he said, "Though Helen has always been headstrong, temperamental, I worry for her too. If not for her brothers coming after her, she may just have stayed with Theseus. For some strange reason, she seemed to like his vagabond lifestyle."

"Perhaps it wasn't the lifestyle itself but the fact that he treated her normally. Helen's always been overly protected and watched over because of her looks. Because of her status as heir of Sparta and as your daughter," she pointed out. "It can't be easy to be singled out."

"That may be so – she is rather spoiled, even if there is a measure of generosity within her. Whatever she wants, she almost always gets. As you know full well, it wasn't her father who chose Menelaus as her husband."

"True enough," she agreed, her fingers idly rubbing the arm about her waist. There had been much talk, much pleading from the girl to her about who she should choose. What she should do about the whole situation and all she could really tell her was to follow her heart. Be with the one who made her feel respected, not merely desired. "Still, for all of her shifting emotions, she isn't a flighty woman. Her love for Menelaus is real – but she has a tendency to flirt an awful lot.

"I think she gets that from you," she added, only half-teasing in her accusation.

He laughed, shrugging it off easily, glad at this sign that she was returning to herself. If she could tease him so affectionately, she was feeling better. Besides, there was no point in denying that he was a natural flirt. "It's also cultural, Hera. She _is_ from a nation that still worships the Goddess Mother and must fulfill all the functions as her High Priestess."

"I'm not saying she isn't without reason," she mildly protested. As a mother goddess herself, it would be ridiculous for her to be blind about Helen's role – especially when she participated in the rituals he was referring to. Very few mortals recognized her in that role now, but that didn't make it any less true. Because in recent centuries, she had abdicated that role to other goddesses. "It wouldn't be honest for me to do so. I just wish that we could stop the war and salvage this debacle."

"But there isn't a way. You know as I do that there isn't anyone who can turn Demeter away when she's set on her course. Not even Persephone has that power," he reminded her gently. "She's tried, though I don't think bringing up Hades and wanting to have an actual honeymoon with him was wise of her."

An unladylike snort escaped her. Looking up at him through her eyelashes, "That girl. Doesn't she figure that the six months she spends with him serves as a honeymoon?"

"With Hekate watching over them? There are many, many things one wants to do on a honeymoon without a chaperon, my darling lady wife," he reminded her, voice as heated as his look. "Can you honestly say that you wanted to spend our honeymoon at home, on Olympus, with the family there?"

Thinking of the many, many, _many_ hours they'd spent in bed – and all the tricks he employed to get her _back_ in bed, she conceded his point. Glancing back outside, for she could feel the blush coloring her cheeks, her voice became very prim as she said, "You have a valid point, my husband. Still, Persephone should _know_ better by now not to talk of such things to her mother."

"She is her father's child. Tact isn't something I'm well known for. All she wants is a little quality time away from the pressures of the job with the one she loves. I can see where she is coming from. It's no easy thing to be separated from the one you love," he softly observed.

There was a wealth of understanding in his voice that hadn't been there before. And he was resolved to find ways to make sure that Hades got to spend more time with her. It was only fair and just that he do so, though he knew that Demeter was going to have a fit about it.

Still, he had to believe that she would learn to deal with it – especially if she could see how valued and loved her daughter was.

"If we don't want to have another permanent winter, we must give our determined sister the freedom to do as she wishes with Troy. It is the same with Athena," he admitted, "Though I wish it wasn't so. I can't quite figure out how to get through to her. She's usually more level-headed than this. The most we can do is minimize the damage."

"Can we do that?" she asked, looking up at him again. A sheen of tears filled her eyes, refusing to fall. She had yet to shed a tear but was sure that she'd be shedding them in the future. To do so now seemed to be a luxury she couldn't afford.

"We'll find a way, Hera," he vowed, wiping her cheeks when the tears finally slid free from her control.

Clearing her throat after a moment, she shrugged off her mood. There was no point on dwelling on what they couldn't control at the moment. Heartaches a plenty awaited the corner, she needed to stop borrowing them. She asked, "How did things go between you and Heracles?"

"That boy has an attitude," he scowled. "I had to remind him to be respectful."

"You?" she asked, shaking her head in disbelief. And amusement. Just seconds ago he was acting like an authoritative king. Now, he was acting like a petulant child.

Incredible. "I've never known you to be bothered by a mortal's attitude towards you. You rather ignore them unless they are outright disrespecting you – or me. Why is he so different?"

"I didn't say it bothered me," he replied, knowing what she was thinking. "But it did surprise me for he _is_ your son and was raised by Alcmene. I know that she has reverence towards the gods."

"Perhaps it is _because_ he is my son that allows him to believe that he can sass you," she gently suggested. Instead of pursuing that topic, she nonchalantly asked, knowing he wouldn't be fooled. "What are his reasons for wanting to put off the revelation?"

"Surprisingly, he had a few good reasons. Ones I wouldn't have thought about. He pointed out that Troy was causing enough contention between the gods, we should not add to it. There was also fear in him over what would happen to his family and friends at the hands of certain gods who know better than to go after him. I'm sure I don't have to name any of them," he said.

"I don't need the reminder," she agreed, leaning back against him. It was no secret that Ares was still furious over Heracles' offense against the Amazons. And he was waiting for an opportunity to strike at him – even though she'd counseled him to just let it go. "What else?"

"What makes you think there's more?"

"There's always something more in situations like this. You forget, I used to enact them. I would spend hours obsessing over what I could do – and to whom," she replied. "He's worried about me. About how I may react to any attack upon him, that I may cause harm to befall mortals in my anger."

Zeus shrugged, twisting one of his hands around so that it could hold hers. What she said was truth, so he could offer no comfort except cold comfort. And that wasn't something he liked to do for it never felt quite right.

At least, not with her.

Offering her false comfort had always seemed to make light of the trust she gave him. As a result, he was always honest with her. Thinking of his affairs, he retracted that thought because he'd always hidden them from her, so being honest wasn't always the case. While he'd once believed it was all right to do so, he couldn't continue to think that way – not when the cost to him had been her.

Now, he was resolved to be more honest with her. It was to be hoped that by doing so, they wouldn't come close to losing each other again. "If so, he said nothing of that to me. Heracles was more concerned with harm befalling you and his mortal family."

Knowing Athena and Ares, it was not that farfetched an idea. There was no doubt in his mind that Athena would react badly. And Ares was most likely to go ballistic in a way he didn't with his father's mortal whelps. While he rarely saw eye to eye with his mother on some things – and was very upset with the way she was blasé over some of the tasks laid before Heracles – he was obsessively protective of her.

So long as the enemy he faced off with _**wasn't**_ his father, that was.

Hera contemplated her choices, wondering if he was thinking the same thing she was. There was merit in putting the revelation off. With things so unpleasant between the female contingent of the gods, she didn't need to add that particular stress to her plate. There would be enough destruction as it was without other personal vendettas being added into the mixture.

But there was a danger in that, once put off, it would never be picked up again.

People didn't like facing unpleasant things. While they could claim superiority in some areas, this wasn't one of them. For it was no different with the gods, they tended to avoid confrontation when they could. With a sigh, she closed her eyes, trying to focus on what to do.

Yet, at that particular moment in time, she couldn't think about it clearly enough to come up with an answer to their dilemma. All answers led to more unanswerable questions for her. "What do you think I should do?" she asked, seeking his – or rather Métis' – counsel in this.

Zeus was silent as he listened for some kind of insight from his ever constant counselor.

But in this matter, she was quiet. For a moment, he wondered if she had finally left him. Left him to make Hera the one companion he turned to fully for everything. As they were going to start anew, it would make sense that she would. The pang in his heart would fade in time, this he knew. For while he'd loved Métis, she was correct as usual. Hera was the one to whom he'd bound his heart and soul.

Therefore, they should be united as counselors and companions.

"There is validity in both of our positions," he said, slowly finding the words to speak. "We can't afford to put it off – but we can't afford to talk of it now. If we talk to anyone, even to Hestia, the circle of carriers who bear the secret widens and makes it more difficult to keep. It also widens the circle of those who will be hurt that we didn't trust them.

"I shudder to think of mother's reaction, though I think she suspects."

"She is a mother goddess," Hera agreed, almost timidly and he wondered at the sound. What was it she was holding back now? "If anyone were to know of my secret birth, it would be her." There was a slight hesitation, a sound of pain, in her voice.

Turning her around, he tilted her chin up to his. "How difficult was it giving birth without Eileithyria to help you?"

Trying to think of an answer that wouldn't worry him further, there was a pause as she studied him. The silence was hardly comfortable between them but he patiently waited for her to gather her thoughts together. For her to answer him, "It was not as difficult as it would be for a mortal woman for I do have the greater strength of a goddess. But it was a trifle hard."

"Hera," he warned, shaking her just a little in reproach. "I don't want the sanitized version. You know that, while I wasn't at your side when you gave birth to our children, I was still near you. I heard how difficult it was for you – and you had help then.

"How hard was it?"

As she stared at him, she knew that evasion wasn't possible any longer. What she couldn't figure out was why he was even asking her. It wasn't as if they could go back and do it all over again. And he knew that. "Zeus, it was hard. My deepest regret is that I did that to Leto out of spite. What I did to her, I had no right for she had been with you before you and I were even together. I was wrong."

She owed the goddess a great, big apology for the torment she'd put her through during her travail.

"Agony is to little a word to describe it, Zeus. And yet, it is the only one I have. I don't think I've felt pain like that before – at least not physical," she had to add that for the pain in her heart when she thought of the pain her children at times went through. Or that she felt whenever she heard of Zeus' latest conquest were greater pains but they were emotional ones.

"I'm sorry you felt that you had to go it alone," he said, though at the time he knew he'd have been furious to find out that she was pregnant with another man's child. More than furious, he would've been enraged. Who knows what he would've done to her if he'd have been there with her.

In all probability, nothing.

Though it would have surprised many to hear it, he would not have been angry with her, not at first. At best, he would've been disappointed in her actions. His heart crushed within his chest at what she'd done. But really angry with her? So furious that he wouldn't have been able to listen to her? No, for all his fury at her for telling him the truth about Heracles, he knew that he'd never have been able to condemn her upon looking at her face.

No, his rage would have been directed towards the man who had dared to touch her.

As it was, Philon had been safely dead when she had given birth. If he had been there with her as she gave birth to another's child, he probably would've done something stupid and vindictive like gone into the Realm of Hades to find him. Gone down there, full of his power and authority and jerked the man out of his rightful place in the Elysian Fields and thrown him into Tartarus to spend the rest of his afterlife tormented.

Transgressing upon Hades' authority in the process.

"Don't be," she replied. "It was a humbling experience that helped me through my final stage of growth. If not for that, I wouldn't have learned all that I needed to learn. I just hope I won't be required to go through another test like that for a while."

Dropping a kiss onto her head, he rocked her slowly. "If you do, I hope you don't shut me out."

As they once had, they watched as Helios started off on his journey towards the west and Selene came up behind him. Tonight, she was only half full and it reminded them of what lay before them. The war that would leave their world half empty, full of darkness and pain in which only a tiny light would keep them going.

"I suppose we should go back and face reality." The words he spoke were regretful.

And she sympathized with him for facing Olympus was the last thing she wanted to do.

"It _is_ our duty," she gently reminded him, her hand playing with his hair. "As much as I'd love to reenact our three hundred year long honeymoon, it wouldn't work out well in the long run. We have a duty to do, my king. And this time we wouldn't be able to keep them at bay. They'd all come pounding on the door, yelling at us – no matter where that door may be."

"Especially since you haven't said yes. One can't have a proper honeymoon without a wedding," he reminded her, picking her up so that her feet slipped out of her sandals and barely touched the ground. It may be an awkward position for her but they were now eye to eye.

Wrapping her arms tightly about him, she leaned forward, their foreheads touching. "Perhaps I'm just afraid that should I do so, you will go out of your way to arrange another large wedding. Inviting every single creature to it," she teased, her bare foot brushing his leg tauntingly.

Teasingly.

"You don't think you deserve it?" he asked, turning them around swiftly and heading to the upper level where the bed was. Lowering her carefully down to the mattress, he studied his wife – the love who constantly defied him and defined him – intently.

"Hardly," she retorted, reclining and letting him look his fill. No matter how often he looked at her, studied her, it always felt different. Always felt as though this was the first time he'd ever looked at her. Although it had been a long time since he'd looked at her as though she was the entire universe to him and she shivered, hungry for his touch.

It thrilled her even as it scared her. This dependency she was beginning to have for him. "A large wedding is more your thing than my own." The words came as she forced herself to be calm, to let him take the lead.

At least, for the moment.

Joining her, he traced her face. "True but the whole world should be allowed to share in my joy. And be envious of the beauty that is mine to have and hold forever," he admitted without shame. "We'll go back tomorrow. But for now, let's just take the night hours together."

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Zeus stretched one arm over his head and yawned, looking around momentarily before down. Hera rested, sleeping deeply on his arm. She was so beautiful, so enchanting, so unique – how in Tartarus had he managed to win this woman all over again?

Red hair spilled out about her, bringing out the shadows that remained under her eyes even in repose. He knew that should she open them, they would be filled with sorrow before seeing him beside her banished them. Before the light of love filled them, warming him to the core. That thought brought a smile to his face, knowing that he could give her such security.

It was one of the few things he could honestly give to her that she really needed.

Lashes fluttered momentarily, as if she was about to wake up before she rolled over, seeking his warmth. His arm automatically curled around her, drawing her closer to him. Gentle fingers rested upon his heart, curling before flattening out, unconsciously feeling for the steady, comforting beat there.

His chin dropped to rest on her head, breathing her in. Breathing in the rare peace of the moment. Closing his eyes, he allowed his fingers to play against her skin. Softly so that she could rest, she got precious little of it these days.

"Father! Are you in there?" Athena's voice broke into his pleasant drowsing.

With a regretful sigh, he gently extricated himself from the warmth of her presence. Dressing quickly, he bent down once to brush his lips against hers before leaving quickly. With Athena there, he couldn't give into temptation to deepen the kiss for it would lead to more pleasant activities.

He had a feeling that this was only going to be the first of many tests to his almost nonexistent patience.

Opening the door, he stepped out into the early morning. Looking at the horizon, he couldn't even see Helios making his way towards them. Which meant that the god was either over sleeping – or it was insanely early. And as Helios had an insanely anal inner clock, it couldn't be a late start. What could possibly have happened over night that Athena couldn't handle? Her cool head and steady hand were two reasons he often left her in charge.

"What is wrong?" he asked, stifling another yawn. Stifling thoughts of the woman he'd left sleeping in bed, trying not to think of ways to get rid of Athena so that he could rejoin her. Unfortunately he knew that if she was here, it had to be important.

"Thetis demands to see you now," she told him. "But ironically, not because the war has started. She is not pleased to find out that Odysseus played a trick to reveal Achilles. It is my estimation of things that she will try to revenge herself upon him for what was done. As he is a favorite of mine, I cannot allow this to happen."

"She should not have tried to mess with fate," he observed, though he did wonder when Athena had started to take such personal interests in mortal heroes. It went against her own pattern of behavior.

"I suppose we should be on our way," Hera's tired voice said.

He turned and looked at her, helping her straighten her veil with some regret. While he knew it was appropriate and right, that it was a way of showing her status as a wife, he hated covering her beautiful hair. On the other hand, her hair was his to enjoy. Why should he share the full glory that was his wife's beauty with anyone who happened by?

And, yes, he knew she'd be incredibly angry with him for his possessive and dominating attitude. He didn't care for she acted the same way about him. "I'm sorry. I tried not to wake you," he said.

"The bed was far to cold without you – even if I had the covers all to myself. Your body is a far more effective blanket. Especially when it comes to wake-up calls," she spoke quietly, for his ears alone.

A shout of laughter escaped him as Hera passed him, joining Athena. Catching her hand he linked their fingers together, brushing a kiss across them. The trio disappeared into the dawning morning.

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It seemed as though he'd only just dropped off to sleep, mind still occupied with the day's happenings when he heard the familiar sounds of Iolaus coming up the path, knocking on the door. "Have you heard the news?" he asked when the door was open.

With a deep sigh, he shook his head. "No, what?" his question was idle for he was more interested in taking in the appearance of his cousin. He was pleased to note the healthy color was back, that he'd shaved off that hideous growth for his face wasn't suited for a beard, and the return of sanity and life to Iolaus' eyes. It was a relief to see that he was bouncing back from the shattering heartbreak of Nebula's request.

Iolaus took in the exhausted look on Heracles' face and felt guilty for waking him. This must be the first time in a while that Heracles had a chance to rest. To recuperate. But he couldn't back out of it now. Not without a good reason. "One of the ships sent to explore the land about Troy has initiated combat. We haven't much time if we are to join Odysseus at the palace."

"Menelaus," he absently corrected. "That is, if you're coming with me?" he asked, hoping that Hera would understand why he was going without asking her as he'd promised Menelaus he would.

"Do you even have to ask?" he replied, not questioning the change in men. Even though he'd barely arrived, he'd known that the Spartan king was in the town. It was a little surprising to find out that he'd gone to visit Heracles though.

He hadn't thought they'd known each other.

"I didn't want to bring you into this against your will. This doesn't seem like it will be an easy victory – or even a short battle. We may even die," he warned him. "And I'm not even sure Queen Hera will approve of my going."

"True, but you are my friend. And whatever the outcome, I think you need to have at least one person there you can talk to," Iolaus said, his eyes rolling. "And don't even think of bringing up Odysseus. That man may be clever, but he is also a storyteller without equal. Nothing you tell him would be kept in strict confidence. Somehow or other, it would get out in one of his tales."

Heracles nodded, knowing he was right. Such a tale would happen and he didn't think his mother would appreciate having it spoken of so casually. "Come what may, I am glad to have you at my side."

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_Author's Note : My Helen's – and by extension that of Spartan women – back story bases itself a __**lot**__ on Bettany Hughes' works "__In Search of Helen of Troy__" _(PBS program) _and "__Helen of Troy, The Story Behind the Most Beautiful Woman in the World__". There seems to be some indication in what she finds that says that Helen is the heir to Sparta's throne – not her brothers. A rather interesting fact that is to me, especially when you consider that women __**weren't**__ supposed to own property or have any rights at all. In this Spartan world, she was the equal of her husband, Menelaus._

_In fact, it was only through their marriage that he became king. Without her, he had no legal right to the throne and I'm pretty sure their daughter had no right either because Helen hadn't abdicated. And she lost the full measure of that power – and Menelaus couldn't pick up that slack – , that independent status, when she went to Troy with Paris, becoming merely his chattel, subject to his whims_.

_And Zeus can be charming when he wants to be. I really don't know what to do about him_.


	15. What Child Is This That Promises Pain

_Author's Note : So, now we're in the Trojan War. I have no idea how I'm going to tie up all the trailing ends with it, while still telling the story that I wanted to tell. I just hope that it works out all right. Unfortunately, my main characters have been pushed to the side for a while as some others take the stage. I hope that's all right. Because, as any writer knows, it's the Muse that dictates the story more than us_.

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"_I want the Trojans dead, Zeus. I don't even want a remnant of them to remain. Anywhere," Hera said, storming into their bedroom with him at her heels. She didn't think she'd ever been so angry, as enraged with mortals as she was at that moment. She had not thought that she could feel this deep rage – even he, with his countless affairs, had never brought this anger out of her._

_Anger so fierce and powerful, it had taken her unawares._

_Not even facing off with the Titans had left her feeling so enraged._

_Yet, there was also a crushing sorrow within her. Tears were in her eyes – tears she'd had to hide away until she was alone with her husband. Had Olympus been fuller, many would have wondered at the scream of wounded rage and terror that had escaped her earlier that day._

_As it was, Apollo had been beside her and would probably never be the same._

"_I want them all dead," she repeated, voice icy harsh in the stillness. After ten years of warfare, she had finally reached the limit of her patience with them. But not for the reasons others would think as being right or even as coming from the Queen of the gods._

_Zeus stayed where he was, watching her. Pensive, tense, his hands remained at his sides though they longed to reach out for her. Wanted to help her, to heal the gnawing ache inside. He'd wondered how long it would take her to crack, to shatter under the pressure._

_He wished the day could have been prolonged indefinitely for all that this war was haunting them. "Hera, you can't call for their destruction like this. If you do, it will not be just nor fair."_

"_Why not after what they did?" she hissed, twirling about to stare at him. Her hands were shaking so badly, she didn't think they would ever be still again. A bare flicker of lightening flashed between them._

"_They didn't know whose child they were hurting with their actions," he pointed out, trying to sound reasonable without coming across as condescending._

_His own pain over losing Sarpedon filled his heart, so he could sympathize with her. And the ache to soothe Helen's hurts for her actions in this war ate away at him, making him wish he could be more active in helping, in comforting her._

_Tied, his hands were tied by his position and by the promises he made to both sides to be a support to them all._

_It was easy enough to do when he didn't see those he cared for harmed._

_When he didn't have to watch his wife tear herself to pieces trying to remain steady for those she supported and understanding to those she was opposed to. "You can't condemn innocent people so easily."_

"_Why not? You do it all the time," she snapped. Lightening broke free from her control and shattered the jar resting on the nightstand_.

Cassandra awoke from the dream with a jolt, heart pounding in her ears. _Why am I dreaming of the Divine Couple in such a private moment? Or was that a vision_? From the timing of it, she knew that it could possibly be a vision of the future, not of something that had happened.

Or was in the process of happening even at that very moment. If she could unlock the mystery of the child they were referring to, she may be able to stop the event. That is, if she could get her people to believe her about what she had seen and heard. If they could, maybe she could keep Queen Hera from calling for their immediate destruction.

But who could this mysterious child be? A child of Hera's? But surely such a thing could not be. For Ares had been injured several times fighting, as such, it was a common enough thing. Rather expected when one considers the calling that is his. None of Hera's other children had such an active role in the battles, not even Discord.

Which was odd since this whole war was a result of her actions in the first place.

And it wasn't as if she had any mortal children of her own who would be fighting. So absurd was that thought even to her, this idea that Hera, Great Queen of the gods would ever have a mortal child, she didn't know why it had entered her mind. Such a thing could not be, it defied all logic and reason. It must be one of her followers.

So, whose life had been so harmed that it caused Queen Hera to lose her composure so completely and with such hateful focus that she would want them all destroyed?

_But who_?

The rapid sound of her heart's beating made concentrating upon the dilemma difficult – if not impossible. The sound kept thrumming, beating away harshly. She felt the earth shift beneath her. Once before she'd felt the earth shake this way – she'd been trapped behind a wall of fire afterwards. Terror gripped her and breath caught in her throat, choking her.

Taking a deep breath, she swallowed back her fears and forced herself to process what was going on. By doing this, she calmed down and made her force herself to accept that it wasn't her ears making that noise – they were hearing it. Reverberating all around her, the Temple was shaking and screams pierced the air.

Throwing back the covers, she rose and grabbed her robe, pulling it on. As she passed her dresser, she absently grabbed the veil on top and threw it on. Even as she moved, she tried to regain her composure. She needed to be strong for her holy sisters and brothers. They depended upon her for guidance and protection, even if she couldn't defend herself from scurrilous gossip.

Racing out of her room, she smoothed down her skirts and forced herself to walk. Had anyone seen her, they would have thought that this was a normal thing for her. That such disruptions were a common occurrence and nothing to fear.

Out of the corner of her eye she noticed that High Priest Khryses was taking gentle hold of the only python they had left and made her way steadily towards him. The others had fled during the second year of the war, sensing what those in Troy were too stubborn and hard-headed to.

Of course, she had known that this would happen, this destruction of their fair city. But no one here would listen to her. The words she spoke fell upon dead ears, useless and wasted.

As usual.

"What's going on?" she had to practically yell to be heard over pillars crashing to the ground. Dust swirled around them and she let out a series of coughs and sneezes. A hazy film shadowed the light from the few, gleaming oil filled bowls.

"Earthquake," he replied, his gaze hazy with fear and awe. Awe at the power and majesty displayed by the king of the seas, the earth shaker himself. Trying, it seemed, to destroy the very walls he helped raise with just a few tremors. One of the pillars crashed to the ground just inches from were they stood. "The Lord Poseidon is angered by our actions on the battlefield yesterday."

"What actions?" she asked, helping him to pick up scrolls and place them in a basket. Hoping they would be kept free of the fires sure to start though they were putting out the flames, she turned her attention to the duty of evacuation. "We have agreed upon a truce to bury our mutual dead."

Khryses shook his head, "Some of our men had been taunting the Achaeans, calling them weak and ineffectual. Saying that this was truth and there was only one man among them – Achilles. One even disdained a child of Poseidon's."

"Even so, I thought the gods were forbidden to directly interfere in the war," Cassandra said, herding the young priestesses out the doors. "To the palace," she murmured, watching as they gingerly made their way through the crowded and damaged streets.

_Why is this happening to us? Now? After ten years of warfare, why now was the destruction becoming great enough to destroy their fair city_?

Khryses shook his head, "Apparently we were misinformed. Or when it comes to matters of blood, they choose to ignore it. Aphrodite certainly showed no such compunction during that duel."

Shaking her head, she swallowed back her fear as the floor cracked under her feet. Once everyone was clear and the precious items removed for safe keeping, they helped evacuate the other areas of the city. It was dark, only the stars above lit their way.

And yet, they did not make it very far. Around them, the homes and businesses were falling apart. They could hear the cries of the townspeople, praying for help. Screaming for someone to free them and knew that escape was not possible for them.

They had a duty to perform. Tending to the ones to injured to be moved immediately until they could get a cart for them.

_Lord Apollo, do not desert my people just because of my foolish decision to reject the honor you gave me by choosing me of all these fair and honored women to be your lover. They do not deserve this_. Silent tears for her people fell, weighing down her soul, tears for the wounded whose cries she could hear and yet do nothing about.

_From somewhere above, Apollo paused in his discussion with Artemis, hearing a voice that had not addressed him in years. At least, not so humbly and certainly she had never spoken with such desperate beseeching._

"_What is it?" Artemis asked noticing his distraction immediately._

"_Cassandra," he absently replied. Noticing her sour expression, he shrugged. "I know – but what can I do? She is still one of my priestesses. I don't have any reason to ignore her prayers."_

_Her look plainly told him what she thought about that but she yielded to him. Her brother was stubborn when it came to his followers. As all the gods were, she could honestly admit. "What does she want?"_

"_I'm not sure," he replied with a frown. "She seems to wonder why I have deserted the Trojans."_

_An eyebrow went up in disbelief. "You? Deserted them? Seems to me that they did that first by not listening to your counsel. It isn't as if you didn't strive with them for years, even after that stupid girl rejected you. You even stood by them and helped them fight this senseless and stupid war."_

"_A fact I plan to point out to her should she continue to ask and seek my guidance. When she refused me, she turned me away and stopped asking, stopped listening to my counsel," he paused. "But she is one of my priestesses, I could've stayed closer to her. I have rarely turned my back on any of them, especially in their hours of need."_

"_Oh, don't you start to take upon you the blame for her bad decision," Artemis snapped. "She made her own choices and should face those consequences on her own."_

"_But shouldn't we forgive them if they seek it from us?" he softly mused, his head tilted as he pondered the question. It was something that had been on his mind more and more often. Growth spurts could be forced upon them by the Fates or they could choose to have them._

_But one way or the other, they happened._

"_Are you going to be a sap about her again?" she demanded._

_Apollo shook his head. "No, I'm through with that. But…we are supposed to help when asked. I cannot turn my back upon her should she ask for my aid."_

"_Then make her work for it this time," she suggested. "Don't just give in to her wants."_

_After a moment, he nodded. "I will. Thank you."_

"_What are protective sisters for if not to think of things brothers are too oblivious to?"_

_Ruffling her hair, he shook his head with an absent smile. So lost in his thoughts was he that he did not notice the foreboding look in her eyes that meant trouble for those in her sights. When she said protective, she wasn't making a joke to ease his suspicions._

_Artemis meant business and anyone with half a brain made sure they got out of her way._

_Callisto found that out the hard way, though many made the mistake of blaming Hera for what happened to the girl. It was all her doing for the girl had broken her vows of chastity and deserved the punishment that she'd exacted upon her, though she couldn't do a thing to stop her father from placing her in the stars along with her son._

_Apollo was her brother – and she would protect him with or without his permission._

_And woe to anyone who made the mistake of thinking that she was easy to appease just because she was a girl._

Khryses turned to her once the sun had passed over their heads. They had been working steadily for several hours with no break and no food in their stomachs. What little they had been able to carry with them, they had given away. All they kept for themselves was water.

"I'm going to check on my daughter. Will you be all right until I return with bread and more drink?" His eyes examined her tired face with concern. She'd been pushing herself far too much lately but he knew better than to try to stop her.

Of all the priestesses in the Temple, this was one who took her duty seriously. It was almost as if she was trying to erase the part of her that was a princess so that all they would see was the priestess. As if she thought that people felt she had no right to be who she was and so, she had to work that much harder to prove that she was worthy of being a servant of the Lord Apollo.

Or that she wanted to earn forgiveness so that she would be able to use her gift of prophecy to help others, not scare them.

Waving him off with a reassuring smile, she watched him walk away before turning back to the work left to be done. Behind her, she could hear the sound of some of her father's soldiers clearing up the rubble. A few others were helping to guide people to other places of safety, the palace could only hold so many.

"Princess," a familiar voice said from behind her. It was both welcome and an irritant. For while he was a friend, he was also overprotective in his manner towards her, "Perhaps you should return to the palace. Your father and mother would feel better if they knew where you were."

"Thank you, Lord Aeneas, but my place is here among the injured. You seem to forget that, sir, that no matter the situation, I am a Priestess of the Lord Apollo, not the Princess Cassandra. Until I have done all that I can do for them, I will not leave," she quietly replied, her hands efficiently cleaning and bandaging a broken arm.

She was trying to ignore what her eyes saw, trying to ignore the pain in her heart – which was a very difficult task for all her outward composure. For the child's thin body told tales of hunger, of starvation, and of the deprivation this war caused. The girl could have been no older than twelve yet the stories in her brown eyes told the tales of a much older child. The hardness and cynicism in them twisted her heart and she cringed away to see it.

No child should have eyes that old.

His hands rested on her shoulders, the strength in them obvious to her, and turned her to face him once she was done. Not quite as tall as her brother Hector, he had the same broad shouldered physique. To her discerning eyes, she could see the signs of his unknown divine mother. Dark skin, luminous blue eyes, and curly brown hair, he was the epitome of masculine beauty.

Nothing like the god Apollo, of course, but he was undoubtedly attractive.

"But you are still a Princess. There are many who will not recognize the immunity of your position as Lord Apollo's priestess. Do you not realize that you would be a valuable war prize should the Achaeans break through the weakened spots of our wall?" he asked.

"It matters not, Lord Aeneas. I am needed here. Would you give up your place in battle should someone target you because of your," she paused, knowing how twitchy he was about his mother, "godly mother." It was something she could hardly blame him for. It could not possibly be easy to live with the knowledge that you would never know who your mother was.

Even Heracles, for all the troubles having a divine father caused him, knew who he was. Aeneas did not have that kind of assurance. What must his life have been like for him growing up, always held apart from the group because of his difference? It had been similar for her, but she'd had Hellas for comfort.

Who _**did**_ Aeneas have?

His fingers tightened momentarily then relaxed, knowing that she was correct. Knowing also that she was akin to him. This was Cassandra, the one person in all of Troy that he could not be angry towards for she knew what it was like to be chosen.

To be set apart by the gods.

Some would argue that he could feel a kinship to Helen. But in truth, he could not. For while she was cursed with a face and form that set men's hearts and souls on fire, she was untouched by the gods' callous nature. Even this war, a war she had inadvertently caused, would not damage her permanently. She would survive it and come out, relatively unscathed for her beauty was the kind that soothed anger and would lead to forgiveness.

It would not be so with his precious wife, Creusa. He was not even sure of the fate of his own son, his father. No matter how tried, how hard he prayed, the only answer he received was that he would survive the war – somehow – and go on to found another civilization.

It was cold comfort.

"It isn't the same, Princess," he nonetheless argued with her, ignoring his other thoughts. Once upon a time, it wouldn't have been so easy to shove them to the side, these worries and fears. But years of practice and self-denial had helped him learn to do so. The honor of womanhood, of protecting them, was to deeply ingrained in his character to be quiet when there was danger surrounding them.

When a woman, no matter how justified the reason, deliberately put themselves in danger, he had to speak up.

"Why? Because I am a female?" she asked, almost angrily. "I assure you, Lord Aeneas, that my gender is not something that I chose. It is not something that I shall let get in the way of doing what I must. I have no intention of running away from my duty merely because of what many perceive as a weakness. If it would make you feel better, you may appoint a guard over me.

"I will not argue against it as I have in the past." This was quite a concession on her part since she was rather unyielding when it came to ensuring her trust in her position. Her trust that the Lord Apollo would protect her was absolute. And should anything happen to her, he would take care of the offender.

No matter her refusal of him, she knew that Apollo watched over his servants.

"But you have to understand that I cannot and will not turn my back on the life that I have chosen to live. I made a choice so many years ago, a choice to live the life of a priestess. Do not expect me to show no honor and turn from my obligations. I once did so and was punished for negligence and selfishness. I will not do so again," she regained her calm and was able to look him in the eye.

"You are being stubborn," he complained, though he did admire her for her spirit and commitment. In moments like this, he could clearly see Hector's sense of duty in her. It was obvious that such a sense ran deeply within the family, even if his wife sometimes faltered herself.

But he could understand Creusa and her position. As a mother, she had a duty to protect their son. She had to make sure that he had his father to protect him. To raise him and give him an appropriate role model, she wanted no other man to raise their son.

"It's a family trait," she retorted.

With a sigh, he yielded. "As you wish, Princess," he murmured, fading back to get out of her way. But remained close enough to keep his eye on her. To rescue her should she need the aid.

Sitting down for a moment to breath hours later, she felt grateful for the food Khryses had brought. Seeking out a secluded corner, she rested and looked up at the sky, blackened from the billowing smoke of homes destroyed by fire. Fires which were now put out but the acrid smell lingered in the air, poisoning the air they breathed.

The sun was obstructed, hard to make out through the inky gray of the clouds hanging about the city.

Yet, she knew that it would be there. The light would be there for them for the longer season of the sun was upon them. No matter what the Lady Demeter had tried, she knew that the great Lord and King Zeus would not allow her to meddle with nature to such an extent that the cycle of the seasons was destroyed.

Or so she hoped.

One could never tell what the Great Thunderer would do. Nothing he had done in this war made any sense at all, not even the priests could make out why he was acting the way he was. First going one and then suddenly turning around and going the other – and sometimes, ignoring them completely.

_Lord Apollo, why have you forsaken this city? This city whose walls your hands built. This city which is the home of one of your greatest Temples. Why have you deserted us to these enemies? Enemies we have not asked for nor did anything to deserve_?

"_I never deserted the Trojans, cold hearted Lady Cassandra,_" a familiar voice replied. A voice whose power and gentleness poured over her like warm water, filling her with its comfort and strength. "_They deserted me by ignoring the warnings I sent through my priests and priestesses. I gave them ample warning of what would happen should Paris be allowed to live – should he be allowed to live in Troy. They knew the consequences of ignoring my counsel and while I shall not actively fight against Troy, I will not actively fight for her_."

"_So, you allow all of this destruction because of wounded pride_?" She was incredulous. All of the destruction, the death was being allowed because the gods were hurt? How right was that? "_Are all the gods so shallow that they care nothing for the people they hurt_?"

Apollo was suddenly in front of her, an enraged look on his normally pleasant and peaceful face. Still as handsome as ever, his golden hair was longer and blue eyes darker, more shadowed, than they had been the last time she'd seen him. Cassandra felt more than a little twinge of regret that she had chosen to reject him and all that he had offered her.

Chosen for she had been terrified by her body's reaction to him.

Cassandra hadn't changed much since he'd last seen her. The war had taken its toll on her once curvy figure leaving a thin wraith behind. But her eyes were still the warm brown of the rich earth. Deep shadows underneath them emphasized their warm color and emphasized her sorrow and pain. He could barely discern the smattering of freckles on her face. Curly dark brown hair had been hastily pulled back and covered with her veil.

She looked every inch a priestess, which is all she'd ever wanted to be.

"Name me just one mortal who would not act the way I have," he challenged her. "Name just one who would be able to overlook the fact that the counsel they gave has been disregarded. That would be able to ignore the blame being cast upon their name for choices that were made against better judgment.

"If you can do this to my satisfaction, I will help you take care of Achilles – but that is as far as I go with this offer. It is only a matter of time before he enters the field of battle once again. And when he does, the death toll will rise. So, if you meet my challenge, I will do what I can.

"But know this, heartless Cassandra, I will not be used and made a fool of again."

"You should have done that already after what he did to Troilus," she replied absently, thinking over his deal. It seemed to good to be true – and she knew the truth in his words. Though her dreams had been strangely silent on the subject of Achilles, she knew the call of glory would soon reach out to him.

On that day, the cause of the Trojans would be truly lost.

Apollo shook his head, wondering why she would think up such a thing. Achilles may have been overzealous when killed the boy. But unlike what the rumor mill was saying, it was not in one of their Temples. Such an action would have been sacrilege, they would have instantly taken care of him – Thetis' son or not.

For even she would have been offended by his act.

But where did they think he found a Temple that dwelt safely outside the walls of Troy that his parents would let him go to for they also knew of the prophecy? The closest village was at least an hour's walk away. They wouldn't have allowed Troilus and Polyxena to wander around, alone, especially with the Achaean army camped round about.

How mindless did each side think the other was?

And how stupid did they think their gods were?

This challenge wouldn't be easy for Cassandra had to concede his point. Human history was littered with people who did just that. Even though Hector had come instantly to mind, for he was a generous and loving man, she knew that he had often made unwise choices. That against good advice, he had tried to destroy the Achaeans' ships in an effort to drive them away from their shores.

Not to mention, he and her father both refused to return Helen to her husband. While she wasn't sure she agreed with the treatment of Helen as if she was nothing more than cattle, Menelaus was the injured party. No amount of pretty words could gloss over the fact that Paris had breached the laws of hospitality for his own gain. If giving him back his wife would end the suffering and torment of their people, why wouldn't they do it?

No woman – no matter how beautiful – should be worth all of these lives.

Ignoring her thoughts, feeling disloyal for questioning her father's choice, she focused on his proposition. "All I have to do is name one," she half questioned him. It seemed to be an unbelievable gift, to be rid of the curse of that dreadful warrior. Again, she realized that Apollo was right. It was only a matter of time before he rejoined them. "And you will take care of Achilles."

"I, unlike some people in this city, know how to keep a promise," he replied calmly. A voice that was at odds with his blue eyes for they remained ice cold.

Shivering, she remembered only all to well that she had made a promise – and had failed to keep it. Though she had her reasons – reasons that would have embarrassed her to speak them loud – she vainly wished he'd asked her _why_ instead of condemning her to be thought of as a hysterical and cruel woman.

But she was – still remained – a virgin.

What did she know of the passion between a man and a woman? How did she know what it was supposed to feel like? What was right and what was wrong when a man held a woman in his arms? When she felt every inch of his body pressing up against hers? Did he not understand how scared she felt of those wild emotions she'd felt when he'd first placed his lips upon hers? The strange welling up of fire in her veins that she had never felt before.

How feeling such things had bewildered and frightened her. How was she to know that it was perfectly normal to experience such things? It wasn't something her mother spoke of to her or to her sisters. No matter what men thought, women were not born knowing all the intimacies that could happen between a man and a woman. Such knowledge was kept from a girl until she was to be married – if even then. They did not know how it was supposed to feel and work.

"You have a week's time in which to find one who meets that qualification – but it can't be one already named. Or one who is so well known, there is no challenge in solving the quest. If you want my aid badly enough, you must work for it," he stoically replied, ignoring the plea in her beautiful brown eyes.

"That's not much time," she softly observed.

Apollo dispassionately looked down upon her. Clearly uncaring and dismissive, "It is far more time than most gods would give to an unprofitable servant."

"In what way have I been unprofitable?" her demanding question passive. While she had not done the one thing he asked, she had dedicated her whole life to him. Was that not a sign of the measure of her devotion to him? For many an offer of marriage had come her way and she had rejected them all – for him. She had endured the stings of her family and the disappointment of her mother – for him. "I have done many of the things that you asked of me."

"And yet not the one you promised me," he harshly retorted, ice cold in the face of her pleading eyes. He silently cursed himself for going to see her. For he'd clearly underestimated how much he still cared for her. Still cared for this girl with her spirit and wild imagination.

There was a part of him that wanted to hold her, to soothe away the ache of war. To relieve her mind of the pressures the visions she had put upon her and carry her far away, protecting her from what was to come. She would soon know of her fate. A fate he once would've protected her from had he been given that right.

But she had rejected him and his promises of a better life. A safer life. "Had you second thoughts after we made our bargain, I would've listened. Unlike my relatives, I try to be more understanding of my women. You did not consider my character when you rejected me out hand.

"After what happened with Daphne, her abject fear of me, I promised myself that I would always listen to the fears of the one I courted. I would try to see things from their point of view. Had you talked to me, I would have respected your decision.

"Instead, you used me. I was your fool," his voice became colder if such a thing was possible. "You took advantage of me – and I could sympathize for perhaps the first time ever – with Queen Hera and how she must've felt every time her husband threw all she ever believed in and held dear into her face as if it was nothing more than chaff.

"So, don't expect me to see you as anything more than an unprofitable servant. No matter what you do, it will never be enough to erase the sting of what you did. You manipulated and lied to me."

"I never thought you a cold and cruel being, Lord Apollo," she said, voice low. Shaking with restrained feelings of fear and longing for something that she still couldn't put into words. "Did you ever stop to consider that I was raised a lady? That I was – still am – a virgin? That my body was feeling things that I didn't know it was supposed to? My body's reaction to your touch, to your kiss, frightened me. But all you can think about is your own wounds."

"Then you should have _**told**_ me," he told her, face cold and remote as marble. Inside, he was shaking as her words struck a cord of sympathy, of memory. Could it be that she hadn't been repulsed by him? That she hadn't been using him for her own gain?

A slip of a child, barely out of the schoolroom when he'd first seen her. And he'd fallen in love with her unique spirit. About her was a strange glow, one he'd never seen around a mortal. Not even the demigods carried such a light. Seeing it had drawn him in and made him wish to help the Trojans avoid the war he'd seen coming about. It had been a reason for his trying to warn them about Paris, about letting him live.

She had always seemed far older than her older siblings, full of a knowledge and joy in life that had intrigued him. Had her seeming maturity at such a young age blinded him to the reality of her innocence?

Standing up, she began to pace. "Tell you what?" she asked, struggling for words to speak. In her role as priestess, she'd always known what to say. But as Cassandra, words eluded her. "How could I say anything to you when I could not put into words what I was feeling? And you were so angry with me, I didn't think you would believe me should I reveal what was inside my heart and mind.

"Only you have I wanted to hold in my arms – and the ferocity of that need scared me for it was something that I had not expected to feel. As a lady, I was taught that a woman endures a man's passions. That she does not feel _any_ kind of passion. If she does, she is no true lady but one of those kinds of females who would sell themselves to any man for any price.

"But I _**wanted**_ you with every part of me," she practically whispered that part, standing before him. A hand shook tremulously as it made a motion to rest against his cheek. Dropping to her side, the appeal forgotten in remembered fear and reverence for this god whom she worshipped above all else.

Her voice was shamed as she continued to speak, trying to explain to him when she could barely find words to use for it was not easy to admit to such unladylike emotions. "I wanted you to take me in your arms, to do what you would to me until the fire inside of me was quenched and the bewildering ache was satiated.

"And I wanted more than all of that from you. I wanted you to tutor me. To teach me about what pleased you, what you wanted of me so that I could give back what you gave me. And I didn't know that this was all right, that it was normal for a woman to feel such passions, such feelings."

Wavering.

He was wavering, weakening.

He could feel it, almost taste his defeat as he listened to her. The words she spoke told him the truth of her feelings and position. She was still a child in so many ways, one he had loved quite honestly. Yet, he acted without thinking about the life of the one he was dealing with.

It was Daphne all over again, only Cassandra had no divine father to turn to for protection.

_Don't be an absolute fool, Apollo. She's twitting you again_. He could practically hear Artemis' voice in his mind, shouting at him to use some common sense. To be practical.

It was enough to snap him back into the present, to remind him of their deal. It wasn't as if she had an unlimited amount of time before her. The next few weeks would bring new pain, new challenges for them. But he had made a choice, proposed a bargain in which to help her.

He wouldn't back out of it now, no matter the conflicted emotions she was bringing up within him once more. "One month, Lady Cassandra," he hoarsely said and disappeared.

Cassandra wrapped her arms about herself, feeling both bitter and proud. After all this time of silence, of enduring his coldness and rage, she had found the courage to speak to him again. She'd said what needed saying – that made her proud of herself. And not only that, but she'd managed to get an extension on his challenge.

But she'd been rejected all the same which was a bitter pill to swallow. At his urging, she'd told him the truth. A painful truth to admit, to hear spoken, and it was ignored. While he had not mocked her, he'd made no move to reassure her that he heard and understood what she was telling him.

Would he ever find it within himself to forgive her for her foolish actions?

"You think you're so clever," a voice spoke as a hand clamped down on her shoulder and whirled her around. "In your own way, I suppose that you are. But if you think that I'm going to let you hurt my brother once more, think again. He's the god of terror and distance. As such, he is capable with his weapon – but I am a huntress. I've never hunted a person before for all that they are clever and cunning. You should be quite a challenge should it become necessary to do so."

"Lady Artemis," she gasped out, staring in wide eyed terror at the young goddess.

Tall, with her bow and arrows strapped to her back, her blue eyes blazed with hatred and fury. In build and form, she was similar to Apollo, save her hair was a fair lighter blond, almost silver in color. And she was slender, ever the maiden in form and figure.

"One and the same," she replied, seemingly cheerful. But her voice was a threat. "You watch yourself. My brother may forgive you – I never will." The silver haired goddess disappeared.

Cassandra couldn't stop shaking after the goddess left.

Hours later, the shakes hadn't subsided.

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_Author's Note : While I doubt that Artemis would actually hunt a human, it was because of her that Iphigenia had been scarified at the beginning of the war in order to get the winds blowing for the Achaeans. It is said that at the last moment, she snatched her up and made her a priestess. Still, the fact remains that Artemis is one of the only Greek gods who demanded and was appeased by the sacrifice of a HUMAN life._

_As to the whole Aeneas/Cassandra bonding – his concern over her, though not in a romantic sense – it was something that came up when I read "__The Firebrand__" by Marion Zimmer Bradley. This book has another subplot that comes up later_.


	16. Business as Usual Even in Chaos

_Author's Apology : I know I said I was going to try to update a chapter a day but I ended up (still am going through) a series of being scheduled to do openings (we're talking up at 6, in a 7) 'till the afternoon. When I get home, I usually am so tired, I can only veg in front of the TV. When I get another burst of energy, I will write thank you's to all of my faithful and generous, patient and supportive reviewers._

_You guys are AMAZING_!

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Hera sat at her loom, weaving with a dreamy look on her face. Since her hands were so skilled – or at least used to the work, they rarely made a mistake because of her absorption. If an error happened, it was quickly and absently corrected. Most would question such a blithe attitude in times of war.

Then, they would shrug it off. She was the Queen of the gods after all. If she wanted to act so unconcerned with mortal events, then who were they to complain? As immortals, they rarely bestirred themselves to be concerned with what the mortals did. Prometheus was the only one who had been consistent in his care – and look at what happened to him.

Of course, he was more the exception than the rule.

Besides, her attitude could have a logical reason. After much fighting, there was a temporary cease fire. Both sides were tired. They needed this time to bury their dead, to mourn the loss of life, and to revive their flagging spirits. And the funerary games were a delight to watch, even participate in. Although most were smart enough to not draw attention to themselves while participating.

Or it could be because of Zeus.

It hadn't escaped anyone's notice that the King and Queen of the gods had been far closer than they ever had been. Since most who dwelled on Olympus hadn't ever been a part of the generation that the Divine Couple had been so happy, they weren't quite sure about what to do. So, there was a lot of confused, anxious feelings running around as they tried to adjust to this new peace.

Ares tapped the door lightly and walked in as best as he was able to without waiting for a response. The twinges in his hip and side reminded him – painfully – of his humiliation a few months ago on the battlefield. Thus, he was anxious to get back into battle and prove himself once more, to regain the respect he'd lost.

"Mother," he bowed and waited for her to look at him. His foot started to tap impatiently and he forced him to stop. The last thing he wanted was another lecture on his attitude and impatience towards others. He'd heard it all before – and was not really looking forward to hearing it again.

It wasn't that he couldn't wait patiently for others.

It was just that he didn't think he needed to.

For a moment only, her smile was absent before it sharpened into one of true welcome. No, she wasn't entirely comfortable with him as they were on opposite sides of the war. Nor was she comfortable with the reminder of how she once was. How she could so easily fall into that place again. Everything that Ares was, he'd inherited from her and from Zeus.

Although, she could truthfully admit, that he was probably more like her than Zeus.

Zeus, on the other hand, would say that Ares was more like him.

And there was truth to both of their views about their often disliked child.

It was with some distaste that she had to admit that this was a son she hadn't always loved for his attitude was bad, his temper in a constant state of exploding, and he rarely seemed to be at peace with himself – or with the others he had to associate with. There was always discord, always discomfort whenever he was around.

Even a family occasion that should've been peaceful could erupt into a quarrel over the smallest of things.

Thus, Ares…Ares was a difficult god to care about.

In fact, one of the few things she had admired Aphrodite for was her ability to love the temperamental and moody god. There weren't many things she could like about the goddess but her treatment of Ares…it had made him a bit more easy to deal with.

As most mothers did, she had wanted her son to be different from the child that he was. And her disappointment in him and his actions, his behavior had often led to tensions between them. It had taken her a long time to learn to love him for the god that he was and to stop wishing that he'd be the god she wanted him to be. A long time had passed before she came to accept him for who he was.

Ares was who he needed to be.

Titling her head, she finished the line she was working on. "Is everything all right, Ares? Is your wound causing you pain?" While he'd often been injured, this wound had been different than others. There was something about it that had caused him more pain than Athena had intended. For while she'd wanted to stop him from fighting and creating fear among the Achaeans, she hadn't wanted him to be hurt so badly that it incapacitated him.

Healing him had taken a lot out of Zeus, far more than he wanted to admit to anyone else. If not for the fact that she wouldn't put up with any evasion from him, she probably wouldn't have been told the truth. This weakness worried her for they had never had such a strange thing happen to them before.

It made her wonder anew if there was something more to this war than the Fates said.

Waving the concern off, he sat beside her. To his mind, his injury was inconsequential compared to the hands he'd received it from. Her piercing look had him confessing, "There is no more pain. Father did an adequate job healing me from the worst of it." There was grudging respect in the way he said it and he ignored her reproving look.

"Now, it's more of a matter of wounded pride than actually harm," he went on, getting angry just recalling it. "To think that I, the god of war, have been wounded by a…a mortal. It is not something that speaks well of me."

Shaking her head, she put aside her work. "I wouldn't say that. For what skill he has in battle has been inspired by you, as well as Athena. Now, don't take on so and pout. You know that it is true. War is both rational and irrational – one cannot call it war if it is imbalanced."

Slumping forward, he knew he couldn't argue with her words. He wanted to. The idea that he had _anything_ in common with the perfectly perfect Athena disgusted him. His father's most honored child – and the one he'd always cared more for.

But contrary to what mortals often thought, war really was a precarious balance of reason and passion. The two of them had to coexist in the same sphere, working together – albeit often on the opposite sides of battle. For it was rarely ever one over the other. True, there were times when one ideology overwhelmed another.

But both ideologies existed in warfare. That thin line is what changed war from simple massacre into something of purpose. Even in the heat of battle, cool heads were needed. Needed but as these seemingly pointless battles dragged on, as months became years with no end in sight, was rarely heeded.

After such suffering and deprivations, most people preferred quick revenge and instant gratification.

"What is it that troubles you then if not your wound?" she studied him intently. Something in his eyes as they met hers troubled her but she couldn't figure out what it was. Couldn't say why it troubled her. There was almost something…searching about it.

Something that spoke of a nagging worry that he couldn't put into words. But it was apparent that he knew something more was going on than he could see. So, she wasn't the only one who'd felt the change around them. This insight in him was puzzling for of all the things Ares was, introspective was not one of them.

"Has something happened to make you doubt your position?" she asked, hoping that she was reading him wrong.

He turned away, silent, pensively staring at his hands. The thoughts churning around inside were clamoring for an outlet of some kind. After so many days and months of circling his mind, these things could not be silenced any longer. They begged for release.

Begged to be expressed.

Thus, he came to the only conclusion that made sense to him. These thoughts and concepts were only holding him back, weakening him from doing his job. From concentrating to the fullest extent upon the battlefield. Breathing in deeply, he looked at her, noting only concern in her eyes.

It was a look that made him feel vaguely uncomfortable.

He'd _never_ known what to do when he saw that look in someone's eyes.

Especially when it was his own mother's. She was not supposed to look at him like that, like he was weak and in need of an encouraging word. He was _**not**_ some maudlin, weak, half-wit. He was a pitiless, merciless warrior and every god and goddess should remember that.

What he didn't need was their pity but their fear. Why was it that they always seemed to forget that? More often than not, he inspired their derisive laughter, not fear. And it didn't help when everyone knew that the majority of the gods had sided against him.

Which brought him back to the reason for his visit – and that was not to have an introspective conversation on how he was perceived. Such thinking was for doddering, old gods who had nothing better to do with their time. Unlike them, he had a mission to accomplish.

He just didn't know the best way to go about it. "Mother, I know that you have taken the difficult position of trying to be neutral but don't you think that you've been far to kind to the Achaeans?"

"What do you mean?" she asked, trying to think if there had been anything overt in her behavior – especially with regards towards Heracles.

As nothing came to mind, she wondered if Ares had seen something she had not. It was entirely possible for one could not be an impartial judge when it came to one's own actions. And while he was a temperamental and moody god, he was also observant when it came to seeing fatal flaws in his enemies.

There was only one exception to this perception – Athena.

She wondered if it had to do with the fact that Athena believed in fighting wars only when it was necessary. This one being the only exception to that belief. Whereas Ares fought them as though they were the only option for mankind to resolve their problems.

"Has it escaped your notice that they have Heracles in their midst?"

Sighing deeply, she couldn't believe that he was going to bring this up again. After their last talk – well, tongue lashing – she thought she'd made it clear that she wanted no more arguments about it. "Ares, we've had this talk before. The matter of how I treat Heracles is _**not**_ open for debate or discussion. His mother placed him into my service and I shall deal with him as I see fit."

"But don't you find it in the least bit degrading to have to protect that whelp who bears your name. To support those he calls friends? This whelp that was illicitly gotten upon that _female_?" he asked, trying desperately to get her to react to _something_ for her stillness was unnerving.

The closest he'd gotten to hearing his mother speak to him had been when she'd berated him about his attitude towards Heracles. That name alone made him shiver in rage over the way he got off continually humiliating Hera with the proof of her husband's infidelity and glorifying his status as Zeus' child, showing that none should fear or honor his mother.

Which was not the point at all – why couldn't she understand that he missed his scheming mother?

The goddess he understood?

Hera's hands twitched, longing to lash out at him for his insult against her mortal son. Against her friend who had sacrificed her good name and reputation to protect her from the backlash. Words formed and she bit down hard to prevent them from escaping.

Breathing in deeply, she forced herself to let it go.

And perhaps it would've been best if they had told them years ago. Just rip off the bandage without sympathy or fear, if they had decided to get the revelation over and done with right then and there, would it have been better? Once the secret was out in the open, there would've been little anyone could've done about it.

Although, at the time, dropping the subject had seemed to be the best solution to their dilemma. The coward's way out, perhaps, but it had made sense at the time. With the war and the various split loyalties raging around Olympus, they had decided that they couldn't further alienate their family with this.

In retrospect, it had most likely been an unwise decision.

But it would hardly be wise to reveal the truth now – especially to Ares.

"The only thing I find degrading is that this is a war about ego and pride, neither of which are a just cause for war on this magnitude. This should just be a small squabble between a few people, I could understand that. But this? No, this is nothing more then a senseless bloodbath. Yet, I have given my word and I do not go back upon my vows," she replied after a few moments.

"Then why are you fighting at all?"

"If I do not, Demeter will. And she may just decide that battles take to long. I've seen people starve to death before," a shiver ran down her spine as she recalled those wretched, hunger filled days of the Titanomachy. Contrary to what mortals thought, the gods could suffer through the same deprivations that they did. "It isn't a pretty sight, nor is it something to be played around with. What are you really asking, Ares?"

"If the contest hadn't happened," he hesitated for a moment, then continued, "would this war?"

"What?"

Ares was silent for a while, trying to come to terms with the fact that he'd asked the question at all. It was hardly like him. "It just seems to me that there is something more to this war than a simple contest of beauty. Don't get me wrong," he was quick to assure Hera, "I still believe in war. It's my hobby, my passion, and my life. But I don't understand this war as I understand other ones. There's really no rhyme or reason behind this."

"If you are looking for this war to make sense, perhaps you should seek the answer elsewhere. I cannot answer that question for you, Ares, for the answers you seek are not mine to give. I shall always offer you my counsel, you know that. But I think that the fact that you are questioning your job means that the answers you seek are somewhere within yourself."

"Are you suggesting that I become a philosopher?" he asked incredulously. "That I spend the rest of my days teaching those who won't listen all the while spouting nonsense and putting it forth as truth?"

Hera laughed, "I hardly think you need fear of suddenly developing that kind of lifestyle – and not just because no parent would ever trust you to teach their impressionable children anything.

"MOTHER!" he hotly objected.

"How can you complain? You know it's true," she pointed out reasonably. "You are hardly what one could call a good example or a fine parent. Even your hounds have a hard time trusting you," she ended with another laugh.

"Children are useless when they're so small. Far to fragile and boring," he dismissed them easily. With only one exception, he'd rarely paid attention to his children when they were small. That was what Hephaestus had been for, to raise his children for him. It was one of the only other things his brother had been good for. "Why are you joking about this, mother? I am being serious."

Sobering, she rested her hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Ares, I shouldn't make light of your query. I can see that you really want to know what's going on. But I can honestly say that I have no answers for you. This war is something that I do not understand for you are right. Other forces seem to be at work, forces that have nothing to do with us.

"It's rather peculiar, almost as if…" she trailed off, thinking of something.

Ares cocked his head, "As if?" he pressed when she remained silent.

His voice snapped her out of her thoughts. "As if something was coming towards us and we're beginning the process of changing from what we once were into something more."

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he shook his head. "That's a little to deep for me, mother."

"I think it's a little to much for us all, Ares. For us all," she repeated. But softly as if afraid that saying it any louder might cause irrevocable damage.

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The next day, she was walking into the Courtyard and saw Aphrodite coming towards her. From the irate expression on her face, Hera had a feeling that she wasn't going to like what she was about to hear. She had a feeling that she knew what it was about. And loathe though she was, she knew that she would have to deal with it.

"I know that you disapprove of my Trojans, Queen Hera. That you question my stance and belief in the rightness of Paris' actions," she began without preamble. At least she had remembered to sketch a small bow to her. "But are you going to let Poseidon get away with disobeying a direct order?"

"I haven't seen him yet but that is something I will talk to Zeus about. I'm sorry," she quietly said, not bothering to bring her up short. She could understand Aphrodite's feelings. When she'd heard of the quake from Iris, she'd wanted to ream Poseidon for what he'd done.

"Talk? That's all you are going to do?" she asked in disbelief. "He disobeyed an edict of Zeus himself. Had one of us done so, we would have been publically berated and humiliated. We would have been put on probation. What makes Poseidon above the law? What makes it all right for him to pick and chose what orders to follow?"

Hera nodded, "I'm fully aware of that, Aphrodite. But there is only so much one can do. As he has full control of the seas and the land touching it, we have no real jurisdiction over him. While the attack hurt the Trojans, it happened as a result of something in his domain. Zeus does not have power over what Poseidon does in the water any more than Poseidon controls Zeus' actions regarding the heavens. We will speak with him but that is the only thing I can offer you.

"I _am_ sorry, Aphrodite," she reiterated.

"Do you think it was deliberate?" she quietly asked knowing that there was little else to be said. As much as it bothered her, she knew that Hera was right. They could scold Poseidon about his actions but unless he tried to infringe upon another's domain, there was nothing they could do.

And the only one who was really affected by the earthquake had been Demeter. As she was against Troy, she was unlikely to complain about what he'd done.

Sighing, she regretfully agreed. "Poseidon has a grudge against the Trojans that has nothing to do with Paris or his decision. I had a feeling that it would eventually come out and warned Zeus. Apollo and the Trojans came to an agreement, hence his support of them. But Poseidon? No, they ignored him and are now suffering for it. How goes things with your champion?"

"I'm not sure," Aphrodite paused, tilting her head. "Helen seems to losing her susceptibility to my powers. More and more often, I find that I need to exert additional influence just to keep her in Paris' thrall. Not that she doesn't have some natural attraction to him," she hastened to add.

"It just isn't as great as it is when she's under my control. And I don't know if I should employ more spell craft – or just let things between them die a natural death. I'm tired of this endless war and the tearing apart of families," she added, a vague, passing thought given to Paris' first wife and child.

The family he'd left behind him because of a promise she had given him.

"The first casualty of war is always the woman, the family," Hera agreed, considering her. This letting go of the man who'd given her victory that day was shocking – if letting go of it she was. If this was true, it was not at all what she had thought would happen for the other woman jealously guarded her beauty against all comers.

One only had to recall what happened to poor Psyche to realize that.

Yet, there was that same curious tone in her voice and look in her eyes that Ares had earlier. But she'd never be able to acknowledge it or put it into words. It was a sad truth that Aphrodite at times had the attention span of a butterfly, especially concerning matters of import.

But her devotion to her followers had never suffered.

Had something more happened to cause her to turn her back on Paris? If this was the case, should Hera try to find out what and try to get her to repair that relationship? Even if they were on opposite sides, was she not supposed to concern herself with mortals?

_Steady on there, Hera. No point in putting the horse before the cart, so to speak. First, you had better find out what would happen should Aphrodite suddenly stop what she was doing. Only then can you accurately plan a course of action_.

Still, it was hard to be calm when part of the solution to the war was in her grasp. "What do you think Helen will do should you release her from the love spell?"

She shrugged, "Go back to Menelaus I guess."

"Will he accept her?"

"Probably not unless I help him," she paused and thought it over. "Then again, they seem to have that rare, nebulous love that developed between them naturally. I only use the word nebulous because Helen hasn't consciously accepted it. She only thinks of him with the fondness one has for that which is familiar. But she cares far more for him than she wants to admit. I am fully aware of how torn she was in the duel. While she certainly didn't want Paris to die, she didn't want Menelaus to either.

"And had he won, she would've accepted the judgment and gone with him."

"Really?" Hera asked, voice thoughtfully. She hadn't known that Helen had cared for Menelaus so much. Perhaps there was a way around destruction after all. A tiny shake rid of her such ideas. This war had become about more than an ideal of honor or a woman – even the world's most beautiful one.

Hebe floated up the stairs before Aphrodite could reply.

Literally floated up them, a dreamy smile on her face. Aqua eyes flitted about the room, seeking out the voices she heard. But it was quite clear to them as they smiled at her in welcome that she wasn't really there. Her reddish blond hair was coiled at the base of her neck. The light blue dress she wore emphasized her voluptuous figure.

"Hello, mother. Aphrodite. Lovely day today. I think I've never seen a prettier one," she trilled and walked on, not waiting to hear their response. "Helios has done well this fine day. I don't think I've ever seen a finer sunrise in all my life."

Her voice trailed off as she disappeared down the corridor. "Hello, fair caterpillar in your lovely green coat. Are you ready to change? But my, aren't you far from the gardens of Demeter. Shall I escort you back there? I'm sure your wormy and most beautiful friends are missing you quite dreadfully."

Hera looked after her daughter and then at Aphrodite, "What?" she couldn't finish the question. The only thing that came to her mind was that her daughter had gotten hit in the head. But that didn't seem quite right for Hebe was smart enough to go see Apollo. She was about the only deity that would, the others thinking that they were above such mortal concerns.

The goddess smirked, almost reading Hera's mind. And, while amusing, it was quite insulting that the first thought to come to the queen's mind was injury, not love, "That's right. None of your daughters has ever fallen in real love for a member of the male gender – at least, not in front of you."

"Oh, my – do you know who?" she asked, thinking over all the possibilities. As Hebe was very much like her, she knew that her daughter would love one man for the duration of their relationship. She wondered who it was that could've caught her eye. Hebe was a good girl, sensible, but was drawn to the unusual…the odd.

Hiding a grimace as she recalled a few of the men Hebe had brought home, she resolved to be polite to whoever it was she brought home. She would also do her best to persuade Zeus to not kill the man when he first saw him.

Even if it was that dreadful Ajax.

At the question, Aphrodite's look of smugness fled. "I haven't a clue. This war is totally ruining my good love vibes," she complained. "I'll see what I can find out – so long as you don't do a thing to interfere with her choice."

Hera held up her hands in surrender and watched her disappear, shaking her head. _Seems like Aphrodite has made the choice to cease in interfering with Helen's love life. Now, if only I could figure out what to do about the situation between her and Ares. This tension is not good for any of us_.

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_Author's Note : I'm not sure I like how these conversations go, especially the Ares one. I don't know, but it seems rather introspective for the character involved. Yet, I think it works well with Aeneas' destiny. And there seemed to be a decline in the stories told of the gods after the war. They seemed to come to life anew in Rome – a strangeness that I seem to be drawing upon for the Trojan War. I guess that I find it ironic that the war the gods caused which ended the age of heroes was also what signaled the end of the more active lives of the gods among mortals._

"_Helen's Passage__" by Diana M. Concannon (which was an okay book) gave me the idea that Helen and Menelaus did have a loving relationship. It dealt with Helen's earlier years, her meeting with Theseus – who fathered Iphigenia upon her – and an attempt by his mother to reestablish the worship of the Goddess Mother. It also had more of a sibling rivalry between Clytemnestra and Helen._

_She also seems to think that Menelaus was the angry, greedy, and determined one and not Agamemnon. That it was Agamemnon who dragged his feet and really only wanted peace. She even seems to agree with his refusing to return the priest's daughter to him. This contradicts just about everything I've ever read that's been written or produced about the war (movies excluded, at least Homer tried to have good and bad characters on both sides of the war)._

_And in the end (of the book), Helen had more of a bad, mental reaction to all that happened during the War than usually happens to her._

_Although, I can't agree with Paris' rejection of his relationship with Helen – he almost seemed to be blaming her for his feelings. Nor can I quite agree with the author's assertion that at the actual time of the Trojan War females were seen as worthless and that they were trying to eradicate the worship of goddesses. Since Helen was the heir of Sparta and the Amazons were kicking around – and Gaea gave victory to Zeus over Kronus – I'm not sure this makes sense. In fact, I could've sworn that such things came much later. But what do I know?_


	17. Finding An Honorable Way to End the War

Odysseus was sitting in his tent, reading over the letter from his wife, Penelope. A vision of dark brown hair and sparkling hazel eyes more brown than green came to him, his heart twisted inside of him. The intelligence of them had drawn him to her first. Even as he'd offered to go ahead of Menelaus to put in a good word for him upon the matter of Helen's hand in marriage, it had been the quieter cousin who'd captured his affections.

Somehow, he'd known her as intimately as he knew himself. Knew that she would be the perfect helpmate to his life, would compliment his world, and that he would truly love her all his days. Had known that she would be able to compete with him and complete him.

She was so far away from him that even this letter – which usually closed the gap between them – did nothing to heal his battered and lonely soul.

This war had dragged on far too long as it was.

Blood spattered his hands and soul, decorating his mind in painful remembrances of things both recent and long finished. For the first time, he felt as ugly inside as he knew people thought his appearance was. It had never bothered him, what people said of his looks, for he knew that he had true friends who saw him and appreciated him for who he was.

But feeling so ill inside, he wondered if that was how he was perceived.

There had to be a way to finish it without further damage to their forces. To spare lives on both sides for this had to come to an end, there had to be a way to appease both offended goddesses, win back Menelaus' honor – the honor of their whole country as well, and bring them all safely home.

But what?

"You wished to see me?" Heracles quietly asked, trying not to disturb the younger man to much as he closed the tent flap behind him. For while he had summoned him, it looked as thought he was busy. The last thing he wished to do was present a problem when they were having such problems with Achilles.

"Yes," he put aside the letter and rose to face him. After a moment in which they studied each other, he quietly asked, "Have you talked to Achilles?"

"I've not tried for it isn't exactly my place – nor do I have the best background to approach him. Quite frankly, I agree with him. King Agamemnon is in the wrong for taking away the prize that Achilles rightfully won," he said, not bothering to disguise the disgust in his voice.

It wasn't as if he hadn't his own share of battle prizes, but he preferred his prizes to be monetary rather than in lives. It made him unusual, of that he was fully aware of, but he was used to that. One couldn't be a demigod and _not_ get used to standing out in a crowd.

And he'd learned from observing captives that it just wasn't worth it. No matter what, he couldn't erase the thought that it could be his mother, his sister-in-law, his niece, in that position. As a result, he refused to accept people as a prize. "Don't get me wrong, Odysseus. The King's a great leader – but he isn't much for leading the charge as Achilles does. He's not much for fighting, even if he has some great strategic advice to give us."

"Most leaders direct the way he does," Odysseus pointed out, sitting back down and gesturing for him to do the same. There was only so much looking up at the other man that he could take. What Heracles lacked in apparent strength, he made up for in being slightly taller than the average man. Though he wasn't as tall as Ajax, thank all the gods for that.

"That may be so – but either way he has no right to demand a war prize," he argued. "If it was Menelaus, I wouldn't be so critical. He has adopted the ways of the Spartans and fights with his men. But Agamemnon does no such thing for he only goes for the high profile kills. He only fights when it will show him in the best light, rarely does he strike if it will go against his reputation."

"Careful, Heracles, one could accuse you of being treasonous," he warned him, worried for his friend. Agamemnon was _not_ exactly known for welcoming criticism about himself. "And I doubt your divine status would protect you from the outcome."

"I'm only half-divine," he absently corrected, all the while thinking that Odysseus had no idea of just how wrong his assumption was.

How very, frighteningly wrong his belief was.

So far, his mother had managed to stay fairly neutral, though he was quite aware that she'd been on the field of battle a few times. But she'd respected his need to do it alone and did not approach unless asked to. Something he appreciated, he knew it couldn't be easy for her.

"Semantics," he waved it off. "You know what I mean, Heracles, you aren't as dumb as you like to act."

"The confidence you have in the extent of my intelligence is amazing," he replied. "And while flattering, I truly don't know where it came from. I don't think I've ever done anything to rate the esteem of the wiliest of all men for what cleverness I have comes from the companions I associate with, nothing natural to myself. I am but a strong man."

Odysseus looked over at him, his head propped up on his chin, pondering his words. "If you could hear yourself speak that way, you would not question why I do. For one would think that such eloquence, such mastery would come from one raised by Thetis, a nymph noted for her intelligence. I am not denying that your own mother and father were smart but they are hardly in that same league. Yet, while he speaks with refinement, he speaks with less understanding than you."

He shrugged, "I blame it on my time with Queen Omphale. One was expected to comport one's self with adequate dignity and vocal skills."

"You belittle yourself needlessly, my friend. But, as amusing as this discourse is, it is not what I wish to talk to you about. I want you to speak with Achilles," he said. "Something has to be done and soon. Otherwise, this war will continue to drag endlessly on. You may think that you have nothing in common with him but I ask to try."

Heracles deeply sighed, shaking his head. "I know that you wish to end this war – as do we all – I just don't think this is this will work. Thetis has turned Zeus against us and he won't grant victory to the Trojans but he won't let us have victory until King Agamemnon makes restitution to the one he offended. Her wrath won't be turned away easily. You would need a goddess of equal position to get this status to change.

"Or talk to Patroclus," he added, thinking better of his words. "As he is Achilles' companion, he may have the advice you seek."

But Odysseus had stopped listening to him, caught by an idea. "Do you think that the great Queen Hera would help us should we appeal to her for help? As she is Zeus' wife, she is the only goddess who comes to mind who has high enough status to help us."

"Correct me if I'm wrong but isn't she trying to remain neutrally upon our side?"

"Well, there is that problem," he conceded with a sigh. The way the goddess Hera thought and acted confused him far more than any mortal woman did. And he prided himself on his ability to read people, whether they were gods or mortals. "Though you were indentured to her, she doesn't seem to help you as much as she could. Then again, she didn't seem to aid you when we were all sailing on the _Argo_."

A fond smile crossed his face then as happier times played in his mind. "Speaking of our fearless and faithful captain of old, how's Jason? I heard he was pretty banged up when that beam landed near him."

"Medea says that he's an exceptionally cranky patient," he told him, feeling sorry for his friend. It couldn't be easy to be laid up with a broken leg and cracked ribs, wishing to help them but knowing that he could do no such thing. Even if he'd asked Queen Hera to heal him, Medea would not allow it for balance must be kept.

"So, will you talk to him?" Odysseus asked, shaking off his nostalgia and returning to the matter at hand. It would be nice to relax and remember the better days, perhaps it would help him feel cleaner, but it could not be. There were important matters to be dealt with. And the sooner they did that, perhaps they could all appease the gods and go home in one piece, safe and sound.

As he felt a residual tremor shake the earth, he shook his head at his naivety.

"I'll talk to him, but I still don't think it'll do any good. If anything, it might make things worse. It can't be easy for him to have to compete with me. Though I really don't know where he got the idea that he needs to." Walking out, he glanced up at the sky, noting the ominous darkening of it. He didn't think he'd ever seen it that color, though he'd heard tales of it changing when Zeus was angered.

A disturbed Zeus was never a good indication of the state of things. Yet, it didn't seem likely that this agitation had something to do with them for they had kept to their agreement of peace, even with the Trojans mocking them. So, it had to have been the morning's earthquake.

Pushing aside his own tent flap, he entered and lay down, staring up at the ceiling. "Oh, I'm too old for this. What am I to do?"

"Do as in finding a feasible answer to solve a problem? No matter if the problem is _not_ one of your making?" Hera asked, almost teasing him. "Or is that a rhetorical question?"

Sitting up, he smiled welcomingly at her. "Even if it hadn't been, I would change it just so that I can talk to you again. It's been too long."

"I will not argue with you about that. Glimpsing each other on the battlefield is not the same as actually speaking to one another. Yet it is what it is," she sighed a little before tilting her head to the side, "And you aren't that old."

"By godly standards, I would agree. But my mortal self should have been retired a while ago," he reminded her.

Hera conceded his point. Heracles was in his late fifties. Under most conditions, he would've been retired long ago. "So, what advice can I give you?"

"How do I talk Achilles into rejoining the war effort so that it will soon be finished?"

She stared at him, silenced before releasing a breath. "You certainly have a great deal of confidence in me for I have yet to figure out a way to stop the war that has evolved in the heavens as many take sides in this conflict. I take it this has something to do with Odysseus."

"He seems to think that I have such a golden tongue that I can talk Achilles into forgiving the King for his offense against him," he told her, a half-smile on his face. It wasn't entirely deprecating but the sentiment was fully there. Of all the things Heracles knew he was, clever was not one of them. "And I made the same kind of statement to him about having too much confidence in me."

"Well, you do have a brain that you choose to use creatively as opposed to using just your muscles," she replied, gingerly sitting down on the rickety looking chair. Subtly, she reinforced its strength. "It is a wise leader who listens to the counsel of others and follows it."

Before he answered, the tent flap opened. Iolaus entered and came to dead stop. The words he was about to speak died unsaid. His eyes took in the sight of the exquisite woman, sitting on the chair. What little of her hair he could see from beneath the veil was red and perfectly coifed but it was her compelling green eyes that captured his attention.

He didn't think he'd ever seen eyes that color before.

Or, at least, that particular shade before.

"Iolaus, may I present Hera, Queen of the gods," Heracles said, almost amused by the expression of disbelief on his face. The hint of awe, of lust was bit uncomfortable for him to see though. Yes, he could admit that she was attractive.

But she was his _mother_.

His best friend shouldn't be looking at her like that. It was inappropriate and wrong – and hazardous to his health should Zeus find out about it, even if he was being mellow about her love affair. Such behavior from him wouldn't last.

It couldn't. "Queen Hera, this is my oldest and dearest friend, my cousin, Iolaus."

Smiling, she rose and offered her hand to him. Quite surprised when he knelt in front of her. When he bowed in reverence, though she supposed she shouldn't have been. This man had been raised by Alcmene, a woman well known for her social breeding.

And years of living, of traveling, had ingrained it deeply into his nature. A well of affection filled her for this man who proved to be all that he was meant to be, grateful that she had been able to slow his aging down so that he could easily keep pace with Heracles.

Deep regret filled her that he would not be able to share in Heracles' future. Perhaps she could sway Zeus into rewarding him and Meg with immortality, though it was unprecedented. They had certainly proved their mettle as heroes. And it wasn't as if the deification of mortals was unknown.

As he had done it for Psyche and for Ariadne, then he could do so for these two worthy mortals.

"It is a pleasure to meet you at last, Iolaus. A mighty warrior and hunter of unparalleled excellence, worthy of the deeds that have been attached to your name. Artemis speaks of you highly. I know from Athena's words that your cousin Orestes has benefited from your more worldly wisdom. And his people have been blessed by your actions."

"Thank you," he stammered, blushing furiously. Of all the things he expected, this kindness and flattery towards him was not one of them. Had it ever occurred to him that they may meet and speak, he'd thought it would be in relation to his actions with her son – not his acts alone. To know that he was recognized for himself was wonderful and scary all at the same time. "There are not many who know of me."

"The world is full of fools who cannot see what is before them. Your name may be unknown now but it will go down in the annals of time as a devoted friend and constant strength to your friends and your family," she told him. "Shall I leave so that you may converse in peace?"

"No, I can come back later," he made to move.

"Don't be silly, Iolaus. Please, be at ease in my company for I mean no harm to you. And I will not have my son's friends be unsettled around me. It is hardly fair to either party that tension and distrust be there. There is news you wish to share with Heracles," she hinted.

Giving in, he sat down on the ground and watched her sink back into the chair. This was the fierce Queen of the gods that men so feared? There was a martial light in her eyes, as well as a strength that revealed her inner fire, her power and position. Her body was tempered with the strength of a warrior.

But she was no battle axe, no haranguing manager.

She was absolutely stunning, beautiful, and gracious. There was a kindness in her eyes he wasn't expecting but left him feeling warm and welcome. No wonder men risked the wrath of her husband in an attempt to court her. If he was anyone else, he might have tried it himself.

Clearly, there was no reason to wonder why she had kept the attention of Zeus even after her harassing him and his lovers, though why he'd stray from such a beauty, he couldn't understand.

"The Amazons are coming. Penthesilia has answered the call of Troy. We knew that it was a possibility that they would show up. That we might have to fight," he said, trying to get his mind back to the reason for his visit.

There was nothing to be gained in such thoughts about Hera – if for no other reason than that she was his best friend's mother.

"Megara?" Heracles asked, half dreading the answer. Of all the people who were joining and fighting in this war, she was one he didn't want to go up against. While a part of him knew that she would fight on their side, he hoped that she wasn't put in the position of choosing between the Amazons she'd made her family and them.

"That I do not know," Iolaus said with a sigh. "I'm not ever sure if it is Hippolyta's tribe for there are rumors circulating that Penthesilia went back to her own tribe after she lost the vote to Admeta. So, there might be the slightest chance that she won't be among their numbers."

"How slight?"

"I will see what I can find out," Hera promised them when all Iolaus could do was shrug.

It was no surprise that he would want to know about Megara. She should have thought of the woman herself. Not to long ago – by godly reckoning, though not mortal – Heracles had expressed concern for her and the choices she had made. It wasn't as if the Trojans alliance with the Amazons was a new thing. They had been allied with each other for centuries.

"Thank you," he breathed out.

Inclining her head, she acknowledged his words before returning to their earlier conversation. "As for Achilles, I can't do much. My sphere of influence does not extend to Thetis. Should I order her to ask Achilles to relent and rejoin the battle, she would go straight to Zeus about my interfering with matters that do not concern me.

"If I seek out Zeus first, there is no guarantee that he will listen. As I see it, this is a matter of wounded pride and misplaced anger. The ones who should not suffer are being made to do so. The best chance you have is to speak with Patroclus for he is Achilles' oldest and greatest friend. There is much that he understands about his cousin that could prove of aid to you."

"But because this is a matter of pride, we haven't much chance of getting him to let it go," Iolaus shrewdly guessed. Which, as he knew from observing the state of things, wasn't much of a guess but a statement of fact.

"That is my estimation of things. It would take something really big to make him enter the battlefield for I fear that King Agamemnon is as gracious in defeat as he will be in victory. Which means that he is not magnanimous enough to return that which he stole," she said.

"Something really big has to happen for him to return Briesis, won't it?" Heracles heard her words but wanted clarification.

Without even pausing to be offended for she had already said this, Hera nodded. It was only to be expected that he'd want clarification for what he'd heard. She was glad that he wasn't willing to take things at face value. "Or be given a war prize of greater value to himself."

"This war is never going to end," Iolaus commented.

"All things come to an end," she replied, almost ominously. "Even that which we think will not."

_Great Queen Hera, I need to speak with you_.

"Something wrong?" Heracles asked, seeing the momentary break in her concentration.

"I'm not sure," she replied absently. "Lord Apollo wishes to speak with me.

"If you forgive me for asking, why? Doesn't he have his own set of helpers?"

She smiled, "It isn't surprising when one understands that he and I have a pretty good relationship. I shall see you soon. Iolaus, it was an honor to met you and to know that Heracles had not misplaced his trust in you. I am glad that he has someone to talk to who knows the truth. It is to be hoped that I shall be able to meet with you again."

Iolaus nodded, "Thank you, your majesty." Once she was gone, he turned to look at Heracles. Shaking his head, he let out a low whistle. "With all due respect, Zeus must be insane to run around on her. I'd say more but she _**is**_ your mother."

"Yeah, I'd appreciate that," his voice was mildly sarcastic.

654321

"Lord Apollo, you wished to see me." She entered the golden pavilion and looked around, startled to see him standing by the eastern window. From the tense line of his shoulder and the way he stood, she knew he'd been there for a while. Walking up to him, she looked out to see what it was that held his attention.

All she saw was the land around the city of Troy.

It looked the same to her. The Achaean forces arrayed around the walls. Their tents dotted the fields. The surrounding countryside was devoid of life of any kind. Fires burned brightly as men fixed their weapons or polished their armor. As Poseidon favored them, there was no damage to their camp, so it couldn't be them.

Not that Apollo was particularly worried about them after what had happened to Khryseis, the daughter of his high priest Khryses.

Looking at the city, she noticed that there was some damage done to the far walls. Even now, the men were desperately trying to shore them up. She could tell that it was a wasted effort for the earth beneath the wall had been what caved in. Without aid from Demeter, they would not be able to return them to full strength.

"Did something happen with one of your Pythias?" she asked for she knew that he had no sons or daughters involved in the conflict.

At his continued silence, "Your worshippers? Perhaps the young Cassandra?"

"Should I forgive her?" he quietly asked, looking at her at last.

Hera didn't think she'd ever seen him so aged looking. So old and worn. "Has she asked for your forgiveness?" not even bothering to ask or clarify who the _she_ in question was. It was apparent from the way he'd responded to her random queries that there was only one female he could be thinking of – Lady Cassandra.

"In words, no," he admitted, looking back down at the city. The surrounded city whose walls he had built with Poseidon so long ago, yet still bore the marks of their care and craftsmanship. "But…after so long of silence, she has asked me questions."

"Questions in an honest, seeking manner? Or questions in an accusing way?" she asked, genuinely interested for he sounded both defeated and curious.

"At first, she seemed to accuse me of the war. Of bringing into being to punish her for what she did," he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "But then, she softened towards me. She explained why she rejected me. It's been centuries since I've been made to feel guilty but she did it to me. I just can't stop asking myself if I'm in the wrong here. What is your opinion?"

She was silent, for once at a loss on what to say. On what advice she could give him. What little she knew of the situation between the two related to the gossip she'd heard but paid no heed to. Gossip, after all, was mere speculation with only the tiniest truth imbedded in it. "I can't really give you my opinion for I do not know the whole situation."

"But you're a woman, aren't you?" he asked.

"Been one all my life," she said, laughing at his pained expression. "Sorry, but you were asking for it."

"Then tell me what I should do – you as a woman should know what it is like. A man has no understanding of the female mind, no what Teiresias says. Just because he lived in the form of one does not mean that he actually was one," he said, deciding that she was right and it wasn't worth it to focus on that.

"Why don't you tell me the whole story? Only then might I be able to find some way to advise you," she said, moving to sit on the seat she created on the window.

Kneeling down, he surprised her by resting his head in her lap before he began to speak. Everything came pouring out, from the first time he'd seen Cassandra playing, to when she had rejected him after he'd given him her gift of prophecy, up until he'd seen her again in the alleyway of Troy.

"I'm conflicted," he paused, rethinking his words. Rethinking about how they may sound to her, they did sound rather…emotionally conflicted. "Oh, not that I'm still in love with her. I'm cured of that."

Absently, her hand stroked his head. "Are you?" she quietly interrupted. It felt rather strange to be comforting him as though he were a child once more. It had been a few hundred years since she'd felt as if he were a child in need of comfort as opposed to just another god she ruled over.

"What?"

"Are you? Over her," she elaborated. "The fact that you are questioning yourself and your motives speaks of deeper feelings than guilt."

Apollo was silent, struck by her words. Of course he was over her. Why would she think otherwise? Did he not speak of his disappointment with her? Of the way he'd seen the true Cassandra and it had freed him from his feelings for her? While he felt something for her as he would for any of his followers, it wasn't love.

Their abrupt ending had cured him of his infatuation with the girl.

"Before you can answer questions about her, you must examine your own heart to find out what emotions truly are within," she advised. "No one can tell you what is inside of yourself, this you know full well. It is one of the things you are constantly advising your followers."

He couldn't argue with that. _Know thyself_ was one of the many counsels that were written upon his Temple. It was an idiom he found both helpful and painful in the guidance of his followers and the seekers of truth who came to him. "How do you know?"

"Know?" she repeated, titling her head as she thought of all the things he could be referring to. Knowing that she had to make a choice, she went with the one that seemed most applicable to their situation. "Know when you are in love? It's different for everyone and differs by situation.

"For example, how I fell in love with Zeus differs from how I fell for Philon. Philon was something that just happened to me, something wonderfully unexpected. Zeus…Zeus was building something between us that would last for, well, for forever I suppose. He wanted me to love him the way that he had always loved me.

"And sometimes you just don't know, you just don't realize until you wake up one morning and your world doesn't feel complete without that one person there."

Apollo was quiet, thinking about her words. Thinking about how he felt in that moment and in the past. That didn't describe how he felt for Cassandra or even any of the people he'd been involved with over the centuries. "I don't think I've ever felt that way about anyone."

"Love is different for us all. Even an old love can become new, exciting. Different," her response was quiet. "With some it strikes with the ferocity of a lightening bolt, a blast straight through to your heart. To others, it creeps through you, growing stronger with every day and every moment that passes until all you feel is love for this one person.

"Some of us never will get to experience that rare love that lasts a lifetime. Or, in our case, an eternity. Do I think you should forgive her? That's completely up to you – but I think it would help you if you talked more to her as an equal. And that is far more difficult than it sounds."

Eyes half closed, he rested in her lap, thinking and half-dreaming. To speak to Cassandra with no pretensions, no ulterior motives. What would that be like? Was it even feasible that a god and his priestess could talk to each other without falling into old patterns?

They remained in silence before something occurred to him. "I can't believe you told Zeus the truth."

"I can't believe you would think that I would continue to lie to him given the circumstances. Zeus was trying to rebuild us from the shambles that our relationship had become. In order for this to truly happen, I could no longer allow him to be misled by what he thought was truth," she quickly retorted. "It is not my way to behave in a hypocritical manner – at least, not when I am being spoken to and addressed with honesty," she had to add that painful truth.

"I think what surprises me the most is his acceptance. One would've thought he'd have been more…upset by what you had done," he said, not even bothering to stifle a yawn. All the vagaries of his worshippers and the state of his own emotions had drained him. They were only a miniscule part in this whole drama.

He couldn't imagine what Hera and Zeus must be going through.

She was thoughtful, stroking him soothingly. "I think if events had conspired to bring the revelation about earlier, he would have reacted differently. But he'd had some time to reflect and to grow in knowledge of his position and what he wanted. I am truly lucky that I am his answer."

"If I may be so bold as to contradict you, I believe that he is the lucky one. Lucky that you choose him," he sleepily said, his eyes finally closing in sleep.

Her head shook, rather touched by his statement – but she couldn't accept it as truth.

"He's right. I'm the lucky one," Zeus' voice quietly interposed itself into the room. "Is he all right?"

"It is to be hoped so," she replied, equally as quiet. "But until he sorts out the emotional chaos inside, it is hard to come to any definitive answer. Only he will be able to do so but I'm not sure he truly wishes to. Been there long?" she asked, watching him manipulate his son into the air. Together, they put him to bed and left.

"Not that long," he shrugged, his arm curving around her. "Do you think he's afraid?"

"Apollo wouldn't be who he is if he wasn't afraid in some way. What he's thinking, asking himself, requires a real change in how he lives and treats mortals. Do I think that's what's keeping him from an epiphany? No," she shook her head after some thought. "I don't believe it's his time yet, dear. Was there something you wanted?"

"Other than you and me in a bed? Wearing nothing but your hair?"

"That's nothing new," she replied, ignoring the blush that colored her cheeks. After all this time, one would've thought she'd be beyond having this reaction to his blunt words. It was inconvenient and something he loved to tease her about.

"And?" he asked, refraining from saying anything else.

She shook her head, a laugh escaping her. "You are insatiable."

"You say that like it's a new thing," he deadpanned.

Making a playful swipe at his head, she took his hand and walked into the Great Hall. "You were saying?" They stopped walking suddenly. A thought occurred to her and she looked at him. "You can't still honestly believe that there is something of a sexual nature going on between Apollo and I now that you know the truth about what he and I were discussing?"

"And if I said yes?" Oh, he no longer worried about such a thing, not really. Hera may have fallen in love with a man and lived with him, but that was a one time deal. It wouldn't happen again for he had no intention of ever letting her question his feelings for her. So, there was no reason to worry about her straying.

Or so he hoped.

"I would wonder if you'd hit your head," she replied.

Gesturing around the tidy room expansively, teasingly asking her, "Don't you think there would be damage in here if I had? After all, you're always saying that in order for any thoughts to penetrate my skull, the whole of Olympus would have to be dropped upon it."

"I vaguely recall saying something of that nature," she agreed. "I still maintain my rightness in that matter. You do have a rather thick skull."

"I think I should be offended," he remarked.

"No," she shook her head. "You _**should**_ be offended. Which is neither here nor there, what is going on?"

"Could I not have merely been looking for my wife?" he asked, face innocent.

Her eyes narrowed at him, recognizing the signs of evasion. "Oh, what have you done now? You did not agree to a victorious Troy, did you?"

"Hera, give me some credit."

At first she carelessly shrugged, as if it was no big deal. Then her words came with sharp precision. "It is hardly an unfair question after you agreed to give them victory until Achilles pride was assuaged."

And, really, what could he say to defend himself against that?

Her words were an inarguable truth for he had shown some bias when asked. He had given in to Thetis' plea that the Trojans would prevail over the Achaeans until such a time as Achilles would rejoin the war effort. Until his honor was appeased and he rejoined the war effort.

Considering the extremes she went through to try and keep him out of it, one would have thought that she would be trying to convince him to actually _leave_ instead of having him stick around. "I think it has more to do with his honor, my dear," he mildly corrected.

"Oh, well. I should have realized that such a difference in words gives his reaction to the situation justification," she sarcastically replied.

"Of course it does," he agreed, completely ignoring her sarcasm.

Rolling her eyes, "So, you were saying?"

"It's more like there is something I need to know," he paused. "I know that you occasionally enter the field of battle even though there is a ban against it."

"Are you going to forbid me from answering any calls for help I receive?" she asked. "Because you know very well difficult that will be."

Shaking his head, he was quick to reassure her. "I just want to know how many others have done so with less honorable intentions."

Tilting her head, she thought about it. "Well, Ares and Athena don't count because they _**have**_ to be there. I have caught glimpses of Demeter, though they are rare. So, I must believe that Persephone has prevailed upon her mother to do right. At the very least that she's talked her out of fighting dirty and to leave the fighting to me. Though I know that she is not pleased with the way that I've been handling the war.

"And I think Aphrodite has been there. Although, from what I was told by her adoptive mother, Dione, she was injured that day. That might be an impediment to her rejoining the battle. A few others have joined in but mostly, they've not done any real damage.

"I've heard a few things from all over but nothing troubling. Except for one thing. Poseidon is restless – very restless. While he's tried to keep himself under control as per your orders, the seas respond far to easily to his emotions. There's been a built up of it. Early yesterday morning, he just let it out. And before you think of punishing him, you do the same thing.

"Need I remind you of your flagrant display of lightening work two days ago?"

Throwing his hands up, he surrendered. Then he nodded his head, admitting, "Silly me, I was rather hoping the earthquake was a fluke. I should've known that it was him. But I will not punish him for doing so because as you rightly pointed out, I can't. At least no lives were lost to his actions, just a lot of damage."

"It was bound to happen. You know how he feels about the Trojans," she added, thinking about his anger over at being taken advantage of. "It may have originally been a punishment for Apollo and him to build the walls of Troy but they did agree to pay them.

"A payment that they had not received. Rather foolish of them to think that a god would be forgiving and just let the insult slide." Shaking her head, she wished she knew just what mortals thought they were doing sometimes. It hardly made any sense to her that they would say one thing and do another.

Yes, the gods did it all the time. But it was their right – not the right of mortals. One would think that they'd forgotten that what was right for the gods was not right for them.

"Is that all you can say?"

She let out a tired sigh. They'd been having this argument for the past five year. The war was now well into its tenth year and these discussions had gotten them nowhere. "Zeus, there are some things we can do something about. This is not one of them. As the Fates have decreed, the final act of Troy is at hand. We may help those who ask but we cannot interfere with what has been decided."

"Aren't we trying to minimize the damage?"

"We've minimized it so much, this war has been going on for ten long years. We can't do it any longer," she pointed out. "We just can't. The toll may not be on lives, but it certainly is on the minds of the warriors. I fear utter chaos will erupt if something doesn't give soon."

"So, we have to get Achilles back into the war without angering Thetis," he mused.

"That about sums it up," she agreed, minimally shuddering. That was one conversation she would _never_ want to be a fly on the wall during. No matter the diplomacy Zeus would employ, Thetis would explode. And she would not want to be there for it. "I leave that up to you since you are the one who has some influence upon her."

"I wouldn't call it influence," he protested.

She looked at him momentarily before shaking her head, almost amused by his denial. If there was one thing she knew, it was the power of her husband. Yes, he liked to deny it – but that didn't mean that he didn't use it. Often and whenever it best suited him and his purpose.

"So, what would you call it?" her question was pert, her look challenging. She doubted he'd answer either for fear of her jumping all over him jealously – even if she was the one who brought it up in the first place.

"Let's go to bed," he suggested instead of answering her question, "And think of something there."

"Before or after our marital activities?" she archly asked.

He smirked, "You really have to ask?"

"Well, I was hoping for something a little different," she said.

"You want different?" he asked, a mischievous light in his eyes. Sweeping her up into his arms, he carried her up the stairs and into their quarters.

"That's not what I meant," completely prim.

"I know," he replied cheekily, kicking the door closed behind them.

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_Author's Note : Something I probably should've mentioned before but forgot. Aphrodite may call Zeus dad but its out of affection and because he is her father-in-law, not because she's really his kid. In this story, she follows the birth as described by Hesiod's Theogony. That is, she is the daughter of Ouranos and the sea_.


	18. Why Can't You Save Us?

Cassandra followed Aeneas into the Palace, nodding occasionally to those she knew, tired and unable to believe that it had been more than twenty-four hours since the earth had broken apart. It did not escape her notice the looks she was getting, a mixture of pity and a plea for redemption. These eyes that she'd known for much of her life still held out hope that she could be saved.

Or save them by doing what they thought was her duty and marrying where her parents willed and bring in new allies with fresh men and food.

As used to these looks as she was, she still flinched away from them. She was a Priestess of Apollo. Why did they act as though that was a thing of shame? Raised as she was, she knew what she was supposed to do as a Princess. Trained as she had been, she knew what to do as a Priestess. They were different sides of the same coin. Sometimes, they conflicted and she had to sacrifice one over the other.

But she understood her path in life even as her duty as a Priestess warred with her duty as a daughter. For the first time in a long time, her birth family won out over her adoptive one. For she knew that her mother would be especially worried about her.

Of course, she'd never show it as she was also mightily displeased with Cassandra's continual refusal to become a wife and mother. It was kind of a loudly kept secret that if she would yield to Achilles' will, he would bring his forces over to their side.

Cassandra couldn't even contemplate doing such a thing. And one would have thought that after all this time, her mother would have overcome that disappointment – especially since she had so many other daughters to arrange marriages and alliances for.

But there it was.

Hecuba could never act normally once she set her mind upon a course of action.

And so, she wasn't looking forward to this meeting. It wasn't that she didn't want to reassure her parents of her well being. She did for she loved them and didn't wish to cause them needless pain. Of all the things she could be accused of, being an unfaithful daughter was not one of them but she knew this meeting would be uncomfortable for Paris and Hector were sure to be there.

They always were these days. Neither brother was one she wanted to see, even Deiphobus was becoming one to avoid. Of all her brothers, there was only one who remained a constant source of strength and light. The only one who believed any of her prophecies for Apollo's curse could not blind one who shared her visions – her twin brother, Helenus.

Their refusals to believe her – despite the ever increasing pile of evidence that her visions were true – stung and hurt deeply. She knew that her prophecies hurt them whenever she spoke of them. That to hear of destruction, of death, at the hands of one they called family, was hard to hear.

Still, one would think they'd be kinder and as loyal to her as she was to them.

Family loyalty was the only thing that kept her feet moving her forward towards this meeting.

It had been the only thing that had brought her back to Troy after she served some time learning the secrets of snake lore in another of Apollo's great temples. Her time away had been enlightening and helped her see more than she ever dreamed possible. She hadn't wanted to leave but her commitment was to her home and her family.

Entering the well lit room, it was as she thought. Her mother sat beside her father. The hair that used to be the same shade as Cassandra and Hector's was graying and covered with a half-veil, though her brown eyes were still sharp as they studied her.

Concern was rich in her eyes as well as pity.

Priam stood when she entered, her mother's hand in his. Their affection for each other was heartwarming and yet, painful to behold for she knew that madness would befall her mother should anything happen to her father. It was yet another thing she kept tightly shut up inside of her mind.

Dark eyes, similar in color and shape to Hector and Paris', also took in her appearance. Studying the soot and other stains upon her robes with concern, he saw with relief that she appeared to be all right. Until this moment, he hadn't believed what he was told by his spies. His nearly bald head was empty of the crown though his silver hair imitated it well.

"Daughter," he greeted her, wanting to do nothing more than enfold her in a hug. But he did not for it was not seemly for a king to show emotion so openly, even to family.

Kneeling down, she murmured, "Greetings, noble father and mother. Brothers," she added, keeping the hurt out of her voice. If there was one thing she knew above all else it was that she wasn't allowed to show her emotions for the world to see. She'd learned that one thing so well, her mother worried that she was truly unable to show those who came to her for comfort that everything would be all right.

Cassandra didn't mind the implied – sometimes outright – censure.

For how could she show others things would be all right when she knew full well that it wouldn't. They never listened to her tell the truth, but she wouldn't feed them lies to assuage their worries and fears. She did what she could to comfort them but she could not mislead anyone who sought her counsel, advice, and comfort.

"As you can see, I am well," she finished, rising to her feet. "Thank you for opening up your home as refuge for those in the Temple." Keeping her eyes down, she only glanced up once when she heard soft footsteps.

Into the room came her legal sister-in-law, Andromache, and Helen, the pretender to the position. The two women stood side by side, similar in height but not in looks. For it couldn't be denied that the dark locks that encircled Helen's face and her mysterious dark eyes so like the ones that Zeus was rumored to have made her stand out in any crowd.

Even dressed in a simple gown with a lacy veil covering her hair, she stood out. Words were inadequate to describe her. Andromache's brown and gold hair with her hazel eyes paled beside the other woman.

All women did, even Laodice – the most beautiful of all of Priam's daughters – did not compare.

Others felt sorry for Helen because of this separation from other women. Cassandra refused to follow along with everyone, squelching any pity for her. Even if the Trojans refused to accept Helen as a part of them, treating her with distance and suspicion, they accorded her full legal rights as Paris' wife.

She flatly refused to think of her as family or as affiliated with Troy.

For within that romantic heart of Helen's, though it beat now with love for Paris, was the heart of a woman still in love with her husband.

Because of these conflicting emotions, they were not allowed to let this war die an ignoble death. She could not – or would not – stand up to Paris and show that backbone that had lead to her leaving with him. No, she would not tell him decisively that she wanted to go home with her husband. Menelaus had even won the duel and she was supposed to go back with him – as they had agreed.

That she wished to end this pointless war once and for all because the deaths were taking a toll upon her.

Or even demand to speak with Menelaus to tell him that she was not forced into this union. That she had wanted to go with him and that if he honored and worshipped the gods as he said he did, he would honor the promise that the goddess Aphrodite had made to him in agreeing to make her his wife. Even if he had the right over her, she had made a choice that he should honor.

At this point in time, either solution would have worked with Cassandra. All of the things she had seen in the streets, on the field of battle, and in her dreams had reiterated the need for a swift end to this brutal war. An end before what she envisioned came to pass.

"It is the least that we could do for those who perform such valuable service to others," Hecuba said, willing her to look up at her.

Her head remained bowed, "Still, I thank you."

"Seen anything good?" Paris asked, almost snidely.

Turning to face him, she stared hard at this golden haired youth with his deep eyes and healthy complexion. His well fed body and elegant clothes so at odds with Hector and Deiphobus' more worn clothes. The way he crossed his arms across his chest, a look of superior comfort and entitlement upon his face and in his eyes.

Beside him, Hector looked composed but she could detect the slightest hint of discomfort in their deep blue depths. There was some comfort in the sight of his unwillingness to be cruel to her because of something she could not control. It was also a look she'd never seen in his eyes before.

Usually, he looked at her with distasteful pity, especially after asking for her counsel.

Perhaps, just perhaps, the Earth Shaker's actions had somehow woken up the part of him that had once believed her.

Perhaps not for he said nothing in defense of her.

Her hands clenched into fists of anger which she kept hidden in her robes. Just once, she wished he'd come to her defense. Was that not what an older brother was for? To defend his sisters? Why was he only willing to do so for the others? Even the pretender? Why did he ignore her own need for a rescue?

Keeping her eyes downcast, her voice was level as she replied, "None of what I have seen in either visions or in living life can be described as good, Lord Paris. All that I have seen is damage, destruction, and a well of misery in the lives of our people.

"In the eyes of the children. I hardly think that seeing suffering and hatred qualifies as good," she swallowed the rest of her words with effort feeling her twin's hand rest upon her back.

"That is enough words for now, sweet sister Cassandra," Helenus' soft voice soothed her as it often did. "I am sure that you are tired and wish to retire from the day's activities. Please, father, it would be cruel to keep her on her feet after all the charitable acts she has performed among our grieved and wounded. Tomorrow is another day in which she will go out among the people, she will need her rest."

"Yes, of course," Priam said, stricken at the reminder of what his people were going through. Stricken at his negligence towards her. The composed way she carried herself, as though she was unable to feel the same fatigue and hunger that others did, always blinded him to the reality that she was still a mortal girl. Unlike with his other daughters, he could never see a child in her.

Cassandra always seemed to be an adult.

Yet, she was not.

This young woman, with her grown up airs and divinely appointed calling, was his daughter. And, disappointed in her or not, she needed his protection and care as much now as when she was still a little girl. She needed his guidance to this day. Why was it that he forgot that? "As ever, you are the soul of wise counsel, Helenus. Please, make yourself at home once more with us, Cassandra."

"Your room has been prepared," Hecuba added.

Bowing once more, she spoke evenly, voice grateful. "Thank you, your gracious majesties, but my place is with my holy sisters. It would not be fair to rest in greater comfort than they."

"Martyr," she heard Paris quietly say as she went out the hall.

"Paris, that is most unkind of you," Helen snapped, appalled at his words and his behavior.

Even though she felt affection for him because of Aphrodite's enchantment, she was also dissatisfied to realize how he paled in comparison to Menelaus. Her former husband may have lacked the passion of Paris – the good looks of him – but he was generous and kind.

Menelaus was a warrior who fought with his soldiers, suffered with them. He did not run and hide behind others, as Paris was known to do. And while she understood that his preferred weapon was the bow for he'd been raised as a shepherd, it was disappointing to find that he could not stand and fight as his brothers did.

"Unlike some, she understands her duty. And she does not let others do it for her." There was definite venom in her voice and no question about who she was referring to. Quickly, she bowed and made her excuses. Following after the priestess as quickly as she dared, she called out, "Please, my sister Cassandra, wait!"

Cassandra turned and faced her, fury in her eyes. "I am neither your sister nor have I given you permission to make free use of my name, Queen Helen of Sparta. Wife of Menelaus," she spat the words in her face, almost enjoying the flinch she received from her.

"You blame me," she flatly said, hurt in her voice.

It wasn't that she wasn't aware of the blame the Trojans heaped upon her for all that happened. One would have to live in the deepest of the Realms of Hades to have missed the accusing eyes, the whispers that went on behind her back. To have no concept of the reason behind the sudden silence that fell upon any room she entered no matter how lively it had been as she walked down the hall.

Still, to hear it voiced aloud was a shock. For none had ever dared to mention it to her face. Whether it was because of her position or where she was living, she didn't know. There was a conspicuous silence whenever she had a conversation with anyone, voices were clear of accusations – implied or otherwise.

Paris believed that she was making a big deal out of nothing. To him, the silence was jealousy and an inability to deal with one of her perfect beauty. His making light of her concerns had been one of the reasons the scales had fallen off of her eyes, allowing her to see him for what he was.

And she did not like what she saw.

"I do," she bluntly told her. "I blame you for being a coward and not standing up for yourself. The power which is your own to stop this war, you do not seek to use in any profitable way. You are so led about by your passions that you don't care how many lives you destroy in your selfishness.

"The quest for your own happiness seems far more important to you than the lives and happiness of others.

"I blame you as I blame Paris. If not for his stupidity, his reckless selfishness, we would not be suffering as we are. Imminent destruction would not be staring us in the face. A destruction that is as inevitable as the sun rising, as Persephone returning to Lord Hades come the season of longer nights.

"I blame my father and mother for not killing him upon his birth as they were told to. The Priest of Apollo warned them. They told them to kill him and they did not follow that counsel as they should have. Instead of being courageous and doing as ordered, they left his fate in the hands of one whose soft heart would be swayed by a baby's piteous fate.

"We would benefit from having Lord Apollo on our side but we do not have him because we ignored his counsel.

"And I blame myself. Had I just swallowed back my fear of the passions inside my body, I would not have become known as a false priestess. I would have Lord Apollo's blessing. His genuine protection," she finished bitterly, stopping herself from giving further confidences to this woman.

She had already given her too much power over her as it was. There was no way to take back her words, no way to salvage the situation. All that she had left was escaped.

Even if it made her appear a coward, she would take that chance and flee. "Now, unless you have something of some import to speak with me as a priestess about, I bid you good night."

"I wish to know how to sneak into the Achaeans camp," she said quickly. "I must speak with Menelaus, no matter what the cost to my relationship with Paris may be. If this is to end, it must be between me and him for Paris won't deal with him as he should.

"And Menelaus understands this for he proposed a duel between them which would settle this matter. And, for once, Paris did the right thing and accepted the challenge. This was the only reasonable way to end the war but before a satisfying conclusion could be reached in the fight, Aphrodite interfered.

"Whether this was just or not, I cannot say. The reasonings of the gods are not ours to understand or to question, just accept for their ways are not our own."

For the first time, Cassandra didn't know how to respond to any of what she heard. Usually, she had a quick word – even if it was an unwise one – or a snide remark upon her lips. This…this speech from Helen was unprecedented and her mind was silent, unable to come up with any response at all. She could only stand there and gape at her, mouth hanging open rather unattractively.

"What?" she finally managed to get one word out.

"As a Priestess of Apollo, you must have some kind of immunity to travel out beyond the city's walls. To travel among the Achaeans," her words were hurried but not rash. Almost as if she'd thought this through and realized that this was the only option for her to take for no one else would listen to her. "Is it not possible for you to find some way to take me with you?"

Cassandra finally found her voice, though it came out rather squeaky sounding compared to Helen's measured tones. She had hoped to sound authoritative, courageous. Hoped to sound like the woman she was in the Temple, full of wisdom and courage.

But she did not.

She sounded like a child playing at grown up games. "You're crazy. Even _you_ have to see what a bad idea this is for you must know what Menelaus will do to you. And even should he allow you to be with him unmolested, there are others out there who would not be so forgiving of you."

Helen's eyes sharpened, flinty in the light that streamed in through the windows. For the first few moments of this conversation, she had been quite willing to take the abuse towards her part in this war. It was only what she deserved to hear. Even about the level of her intellect, she knew what everyone thought about her.

But she would _**not**_ be mocked.

She simply would not. "I assure you that I am not. This war began with my choice and it should end because of my actions. Will you help me or not?"

"Are you out of your mind? If he doesn't kill you upon realizing who you are, Hector will upon your return. You can't just go through the enemy camp and hope to come out unscathed," she argued.

"You do," she icily retorted.

"As you have pointed out, I have immunity. You have no such protection," she replied. "In order for me to travel about, I have to swear that I am not spying nor am I carrying messages to anyone pleading for help. You will be instantly recognized by most of the Achaeans. They were all part of the competition for your hand. There is no _way_ that I can disguise you in a priest's robe."

"Priestess Cassandra," she swallowed hard and placed her hands on her shoulders. This was harder to do than she'd thought it would be but she knew what she had to do. Looking her right in the eye, she made sure that her sincerity showed.

Her sincerity and her determination. "I know that I am asking you to do a very difficult thing. But you want this war to end as much as I do – perhaps even more so. Please, help me do this and I shall try to find a way to help free you from the curse placed upon you."

Her fingers rubbed her forehead, trying to think past the block of exhaustion and anger and disappointment that seemed to cling to her. _Why_, she thought, _why was this woman doing this to her now_? _Should not these thoughts have been in her mind months ago_?

The infamous duel between both men over her had been then.

As far as she knew, Helen hadn't even attempted any kind of action after it happened. No word of reproach, no attempt to speak with the Achaeans about what happened, and she certainly hadn't even tried to leave. Instead, she had succored Paris' wounds.

Ignoring the very insult that his leaving the field of battle had put upon her, she had remained steadfast and loyal to him.

So, what had changed?

And should she trust her? Could she put her faith in this woman she barely knew? Trust to Helen and her constantly shifting attitudes? From past experience, she knew that Helen wasn't the most stable of women. She had a good heart and a strong sense of who she was.

Because she wasn't the most reliable of women.

"At least think about it," Helen pleaded. "I know I'm asking for a lot from you . But you know as I do that there is much at stake. Please, I beseech you to help me."

Expelling a deep breath, she closed her eyes momentarily and then focused on her. Really focused on her. There was something in Helen's eyes that touched a cord within her and she breathed out slowly. "All right. I'll think about it. But I will make you no promises for I may not be able to keep them," there was a tinge of bitterness in her voice as she spoke those final words.

"Thank you," she breathed out a sigh of relief, slowly released her hold upon her, and left her.

Cassandra checked upon her fellow priestess and spoke quietly with Khryses for a while before supping on a simple meal of bread and leek soup. Rising, she went to the temporary quarters of the Temple priestesses. Their rooms were a floor above the servants' quarters but clean and decent.

More importantly, they were kept away from the noise and confusion of daily Palace life. They would be able to keep to a relatively normal pattern of life here. Washing her face and body in the cold water of the copper tub, she changed into a simple robe and knelt on the warm floor, drawing back the thin blanket and lying down, falling to sleep.

Desperately hoping that she would not dream.

But she didn't have much confidence for the dreams had been coming with greater frequency.

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Helen sat down at the window and looked out, noticing the armies arrayed around the town. She'd asked the women that Hecuba had offered her when she first arrived to keep Paris out. The last thing she wanted was to see him – especially after the way he'd acted towards Cassandra that night.

His behavior was an embarrassment for his sister could not help what she saw. He should show more compassion upon her for her plight. The gods give and they take away, so one should not torment one the gods have already punished for hubris, though something in Cassandra's words made her wonder if her reasons for rejecting him had more to do with fear and less with a haughty sense of self.

She watched the stars dot the sky for a time until she could no longer stand to sit, questions and regrets circling about her mind. _Oh, mighty Zeus, what have I done? What have I allowed to be done in my name? In the name of a love I cannot even describe and truly believe in_?

Rising, she went to the window and peered out, trying to see how many fires were lit. The Achaeans' camp was large. In the harbor, she could see their boats bobbing on the waters. A gentle, soothing motion that spoke of the sea god's toleration for them. Toleration and support of this fleet of ships. Not quite the thousand that the poets keep speaking of, but close enough.

Trying, though she knew it was impossible, to see Menelaus among the soldiers below.

What was her husband thinking? As he sat there among his men, in a tent far from the comforts of home, how did he feel? What was he planning? Upon whose counsel was he relying? Even now, was he listening to the Achaeans tell him that she should be destroyed, be killed for her crimes?

Would he really, as Cassandra implied, kill her for her offense against him and his honor? Within his heart, was there no compassion and pity to be found? Had she really destroyed any hope for the saving of Troy? Was he not worried about what it would do to Hermione should he kill her mother?

Though she realized that her worry for her daughter was at odds with her behavior. She certainly hadn't been thinking about her when she packed up the treasure of Sparta and left with him. Not a thought came to her mind about what she was doing when she walked away with Paris, what that would do to her only child.

Why should he then show more thought to her than she had?

Hearing the commotion in the hall and recognizing Paris' upset voice easily, she realized that she couldn't deal with him that night. Especially when he was in that kind of mood, he – as all men were wont to be – was unreasonable when angered. She could not deal with soothing him, not now.

What she needed was to get out of the Palace. But how could she disguise herself? Titling her head thoughtfully, she wondered what Theseus would do if he were in her place. Once upon a time, she had climbed trees and scaled to impossible heights as easily as her brothers had once fought.

If she had once done it, it couldn't be difficult to do so again.

Breathing deeply, she realized that she just didn't have that kind of time. There was no time to bind up her dress, to tie back her loose clothing. But there was a small closet, not big enough to be comfortable in – but big enough for her to hide in.

Taking a moment to throw her shawl out the window, she hid away and watched as the door opened. Paris stormed in and looked about, his eyes catching sight of the cloth floating towards the ground. "HELEN!" he yelled out the window, searching to see if he could find her.

Had the situation not called for secrecy, she would have laughed at his consternated expression.

"Lose something, brother?" Deiphobus asked laconically, leaning against the wall.

"I think the Achaeans may have grabbed Helen," he said, rushing past him.

"Right," he drawled. "Because they could get this close to the palace without being seen by anyone. Perhaps she has taken the initiative to leave you. She's not as dumb as you."

"I don't have time for this," he muttered and disappeared.

Helen held her breath. Of all the sons of Priam with his main wife Hecuba, Deiphobus was the one she was uncertain about. He had the same kind of presence in battle as Hector. The same broad shoulders, tanned face, as his older brother. While his hair was the darker color that his father once had, his eyes were the brown of his mother's and held that same regal authority hers did.

But there was something about him she didn't quite trust.

It could have been his constant need to show up both of his brothers or his relentless pursuit of her. A part of him reminded her of Theseus. Of the danger he exuded and his tales of his pirating days, back before he'd become a respectable King.

There was something of a reckless gambler in the Prince. And, while she had liked Theseus, she'd never been able to rest easy around the older pirate, so it made sense that she couldn't do so with the man she now considered a brother-in-law.

"You may have fooled my brother, Helen, but I am not so blind. I think you should take me into your confidence," he said, making himself comfortable on the seat by the loom.

Slowly, she emerged and stared at him imperiously. The dust that clung to her robe did not mar the appearance of a regal woman, full of authority. She stood there, daring him to comment upon her appearance. "If I cannot trust the man I love and call husband, what makes you think that I will trust you?"

He studied her, this beautiful woman who haunted his dreams. This beautiful creature who was destroying his fair and beloved city around them. And what was the reason all of this was happening? Why did they go to war, why did they fight and die when there was an easy solution to it all?

The reason was all to painfully apparent to him.

It was all over a mother's guilt, a father's regret. This war was fought because they wanted to make up for what they had done to Paris. In denying him a life in the palace, they had placed him in the position he was in to judge a beauty competition. A beauty competition between three very powerful goddesses, two of whom were angry with him for the call that he had made.

It made no difference to them that the citizens of Troy were innocent and were made to suffer. All his parents cared about was supporting this one son, this boy they had ordered to be killed. His living, breathing person reminded them of their parental duty to him. And Paris soaked it up, as though it was his right and privilege that they do this for him.

His brother's behavior disgusted him.

The Achaeans fought to regain their pride and over Helen. The Trojans fought because of the King and Queen's desire to support their abandoned son.

"You know why you should," he quietly replied.

"Do I?" she challenged him. "Why don't you illuminate all the reasons I should trust you when you would seek a reward from me for any action you perform on my behalf."

"Suspicious," he observed. "I knew there was a lot more going on in that head of yours than an obsession for fine clothes and jewelry. Why should we work together? Because I can get you out of Troy and back in without anyone being the wiser. I can protect you."

Helen pondered him, debating. There was definitely a risk in trusting him – she was not unaware of his attraction towards her. Ironically, it seemed to her that there were only two men in all of Troy that did _not_ find her desirable, Hector and Aeneas, and they were the only two men she trusted implicitly.

They were also the only ones she couldn't ask for help.

If she were to do as Deiphobus asked of her, the price he would ask of her would be one she would be hard pressed to pay.

He could, she felt, be trusted to fulfill his part of the bargain. He would do as he promised and see her safely to and from the camp of the Achaeans. Perhaps, he would even get her an audience with Menelaus himself and see to it that no harm befell her. There might be some benefit in talking to him. She could use the aid of one who had an able sword arm.

Of all the warriors here, he was second only to Hector. It was apparent how trusted he was for Hector relied upon him, going so far as to proclaim that he was his favored brother. Often, they stood back to back in battle, defending each other.

Even Aeneas, for all of his divine gifts, came behind him in ranking. Should she be attacked, he would be able to defend her from all – with the exception of Achilles, but that man was no threat for he'd removed himself from the field.

Well, and Heracles. But she had a feeling that the demigod was more likely to give her the benefit of the doubt rather than condemn her out of hand. She'd met him once and not been impressed, rather more focused on his companion, Iolaus.

Shaking her head, she rejected Deiphobus' offer. It was tempting to have a man in her corner. But she'd only run into trouble by trusting the men around her to help her. They wanted much from her, treated her as if she were far to fragile to be trusted with anything of any import – though she had to admit that Menelaus had rarely done so. If he asked for her opinion, he did not ignore her counsel.

And more often then not, followed through with it. He never made light of what she said or advised.

But she had made her choice. A choice that felt right to her. While she did not fully trust Cassandra, she felt the woman was far more reliable, more trustworthy than him. "I have chosen whom I have chosen. Let that be an end to the matter, Lord Deiphobus."

"You really think my flake of a sister will help you?" he asked, rising to approach her. "She can barely take care of her own affairs responsibly."

Having realized that she didn't want to be trapped with him, Helen moved just a bit faster than him. Quite without him realizing it, she was out in the hallway before he reached the door. "In your words you reveal that you do not understand her situation at all. I trust her far more than I trust you. She only wants the war to end, asking nothing of me. You, on the other hand, have shown only that you desire my body.

"Though Paris also desires that as well, he values me for my mind." _Or he once did_, she swallowed back the words with nary a betraying twitch on her face as to what she held back. It was none of Deiphobus' business, the trouble her marriage was now in. For he would only take advantage of it. "If I accept your offer, I would be further betraying my chosen husband and my legal husband."

"You do realize that the Spartan practice of polyandrous relationships is not accepted here," he said, backing slowly off physically. The detachment and slight fear he detected on her face were enough for him to retreat away from her. While he wanted her, he did not want her to fear him. No matter her choice, he would do his best to allay the fears that were sure to happen that night.

Paris may not heed him, but he would come to heel for Hector.

Before they ran about, creating even more havoc, he'd best reassure his brother that all was well with Helen. Or as well as it could be considering that she was thinking of getting their insane sister to help her sneak out of the palace and into the Achaean camp to see her other husband. As crazy as he thought her plan was, he didn't want to cause any problems if it would work.

And he was no fool.

Knowing Helen's determined mind and Menelaus' heart, he knew that there was more than a tiny chance it would work. They were connected in a way that neither of his brothers could see. Neither of them wanted to see it. Paris only wanted to see that he had received the promise Aphrodite had made to him – and that was Helen's complete and total devotion for him, the fool.

Helen had the best chance to end this war and save lives.

If, you know, his crazy sister didn't do something absolutely and completely moronic.

"I never said it was," she replied coolly, turning and walking away. A shiver ran through her as she turned the corner and she stopped one of the maids. "Where is Lady Cassandra staying?" Thanking her, she followed the directions and slowly eased into the room, noting Khryses sitting by the fire, his back towards her.

Creeping quietly so as not to disturb him for she didn't want to face unanswerable questions, she moved aside the curtain and saw the sleeping priestesses. They looked so young and yet, so aged. The sight of these women who had seen so much and lived through so much pain caused guilt to swell inside of her.

Then she saw Cassandra off to the far side, sleeping deeply. Even among those she called sisters, she held herself away from them. Afraid of her dreams and being shunned perhaps? For Helen noticed with some concern that she was twitching, breathing rapidly and unevenly.

Kneeling down, she gently brushed her hair off of her forehead. "What troubles you so this night, Cassandra? Is there really none to whom you can shed your burdens upon?" she whispered.

Though this was not her fault, she felt the sting of it anyway. How many of Cassandra's nights had been troubled because of her? Because of Paris? Seeing a blanket lying unused, she lay down upon the pallet beside the other woman and wrapped it about the both of them, hoping that her presence would offer some comfort and not be of greater pain to her.

_Great Zeus, mighty father of mortals, help me see my way through this tangled mess I have made of my life._

_Mighty Hera, giver of life and strength to women, inspire me. Give me focus and a plan to end this agony for while we are small, we are your children_.

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_Author's Note : Homer gives Helen credit for being a smart woman. In fact, one of the qualities of a good woman that Agamemnon lists is a good mind. So, I felt no qualms in giving her a mind and an independent spirit willing to take chances. Willing to do what she felt she had to in order to stop the war. I also decided that it this war was not going to end in total annihilation of the Trojan Race. With the many levels of city that were found, destroyed in various ways, I decided that I could change its fate while following some of the path that the War did._

_Also, Homer seems to imply that the only thing really keeping Helen at Paris' side is Aphrodite's spell and influence upon her. In fact, there is one scene where Aphrodite seems to threaten Helen into submitting to Paris' passion even though Helen was disgusted by his behavior – this was after the duel he had with Menelaus. Several times, she almost seems ready to chuck him out a window and go home with Menelaus. So, I decided to give her conflicted emotions between her legal husband (Menelaus) and her chosen spouse (Paris)._

_And, yes, Spartan's women did have a tradition of polyandrous relationships – that's when a woman has more than one husband. It wasn't a common practice but it did exist. Oh, my Helen – when I envision her – isn't someone who is beautiful in the traditional sense of the word but she has a draw, a charisma that pulls one in. Think about Cleopatra, she wasn't actually a lovely woman in a normal way but she had a powerful draw that pulled people in. That's what my Helen is like_.


	19. Forming a Fragile Partnership

_Author's Note : It has come to my attention that I should probably explain ancient warfare. You can't think of these wars in the same way we think of fighting wars today. For example, in the Bible they record that armies before battles would stand and taunt each other – strange but true – this would go on for a while before the actual battle began. When the Trojan War took place, they did not have pitched battles and when they did, they often ended in a draw. There was no definitive victory. More often than not, the battles were raids for food and supplies._

_What they did have was individual combat between two warriors but they were not always to the death. Again, any actual fighting usually occurred during raids for food and other supplies. Hector and Ajax the Greater fought for a whole day with the armies watching them. It was the same when Paris and Menelaus fought. When Hector and Achilles fought, as well as Achilles' battle with Penthesilia who was trying to win Hector's body back to stop the desecration of it. In these battles, that is usually what the main army did – they bore witness._

_Also, the Trojan War was a siege war. Yes, they had battles on the fields in front of the walls but more often than not, the Trojans remained behind the walls where it was safe. Thus, the Achaeans did a lot of waiting between conflicts. They spent 10 years doing a lot of sitting around. It was why trickery was the only way they were able to breach the safety of the walls to get inside the city. And the real, bloody battles did not begin until right before Patroclus died – Achilles' rage at what happened is what brought about this major change._

_But that point has not been reached in this story._

_For those who are interested in the actual combats that took place, read Homer's Iliad and the Odyssey, as well as Virgil's Aeneid. Yes, as my dad likes to say, it's the Roman version of the Odyssey. But it has the perspective of what happened in Troy. There are many excellent historical programs that speak of the battles and there are movies that portray them. Ovid's Metamorphosis describes the landing of the Achaeans upon the Trojan shore and – I believe – records the first casualty._

_Furthermore, I'm not interested in writing about the fighting. As I've never personally experienced the horror and trauma of war, I can't write it realistically. My interest is in the human element, in what is happening to them and what they are thinking and feeling. Because I can clearly imagine what they are feeling and thinking, not so much with the warriors. I'm sorry if this disappoints anyone but I can't help it. I can only write what I know_.

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Deiphobus walked down the hall, seeing Helenus leaning over a map. While not his preferred choice, beggars couldn't be choosers, so this brother of his would have to do. If anyone knew what story to spin for the others to counteract whatever panic Paris may be creating, it would be him.

Yes, he knew that Helenus wouldn't lie – it was an annoying trait of his – but he did know how to tell the truth in such a way as to obfuscate his meaning to others. In so doing, he could convince his listeners that what he was saying was a complete truth even if it was only a tale full of half-facts.

It was almost alarming the way he could do that.

And he wasn't sure if he was grateful that Helenus wasn't interested in ruling – or envious because his brother had such a sense of the man he was, he didn't need position to justify himself.

Helenus just was.

"What is it, Deiphobus?" he asked, not even looking up from his study. There was something about the positioning of the troops at the southern edge of their fields that was bothering him. But what? There was nothing there except an old, unused Temple. Even when it had been in full use, it had never been prominent. All it was – to his eyes at least – was a small building that those who served an older religion had once used.

"Do you realize how unnerving you are when you do that?"

Slowly, he looked up and over at him, his eyes twinkling merrily. For the moment, his worry was gone. Hidden away under the ease of teasing his brother. There was some truth to the axiom about comfort being found in the familiar. "I've been told so. But as I can't experience it for myself, I don't know how it feels."

"Take it from me, it's disconcerting," he dryly commented.

"Is that supposed to dissuade me from doing so?" the question was idly, almost curiously asked. "If so, I hate to tell you that it will not work. As ever, I cannot pretend to be that which I am not. Tell me, does something seem wrong to you about this map?"

Though it wasn't exactly what Deiphobus wished to be doing at that particular moment, he stepped forward and looked at the map. The question wouldn't have been asked if it wasn't of some import. Frowning, he couldn't see anything particularly wrong with it. But there was something about it that seemed off.

That much he could see. "What exactly am I looking at?"

Helenus almost frowned, wondering why he did not recognize what he was staring at. "This is a compilation of the major duels that have been fought ever since the Achaeans arrived, as well as the funerary games. Over here is where Troilus lost his life. And this is the position that Hector took when he dueled with Ajax."

As much as he wished that he could see where he was going with this, Deiphobus could only draw a blank. "So?"

"Don't you see? Even during the midst of our infrequent battles, when we have the upper hand, the Achaeans keep control over our movements." Now, he was exasperated. Was he the only one who found this control their enemy had over them unnerving? This was their home, such an advantage should be theirs.

Yet, they let it slip through their hands and rest in the hands of others. If they didn't regain the home front advantage, they were going to run into trouble. Already their food supply was running dangerously low. Something was going to give and he feared that it was going to be them.

"Somehow or other they've managed to limit us in where we fight. They've almost completely cut us off from using our chariots to our advantage. Not only that but they have limited our range of long distance bowmen by fighting in tight formations. Even without the strength of Achilles and his men, we are constantly at their mercy – because they are keeping us away from a full out naval battle.

"You are fully aware that if we could keep them bottled up in our harbor, we would be able to attack them on two fronts. They would have to divide their forces in order to defend what they have. Doing so would also cut them off from raiding for supplies as they have already exhausted the supplies on land. Unfortunately, we are unable to bring about such a situation. None of our allies dare to bring ships into our waters for fear of the Achaeans.

"And they are preventing us from finding out whatever is going on here." His finger jabbed down on the Temple, creasing the paper. "It doesn't rest well with me, Deiphobus, but I can't tell you for sure what is troubling me."

"You think they could be tunneling under there?" Such an idea was not unheard of, though he was pretty sure that it couldn't be done. The walls of Troy had been built by Apollo and Poseidon. Both gods took pride in their work and made the walls to stand up to anything – save the wrath and actions of the gods themselves.

Recalling the shaking of the earth, he fought off the sudden impression that the god's whims could result in the destruction of Troy.

Shrugging, he rubbed the back of his neck irritably. "I wish I knew for sure. While I'm sure that no tunnel – no matter how deep and wide – cannot be used to break our walls, I don't think that they are up to the task of keeping them out. You know as I do that prophecies are often read wrong. What if all they need to break through our gates is to get their hands on the Palladium? To remove it from our city?"

More inclined to believe his brother, he looked at him. "Have you seen something? Something specific?"

A sigh escaped him. This question was one that he received often and he had to say the same thing. If his sister did not get some vision of it, he did not. His gift in the area of visions rarely showed the dark and the dismal fate of others.

Cassandra got the worst half of the deal for she rarely – if ever – saw anything that spoke of happiness. He had a private theory that it wasn't a curse but a sign of her inner strength, not that he'd tell her that for she wouldn't believe him. Yet, he felt that it was a sign that she had the strength and courage to carry these visions.

"Images, flashes of fire," here he paused and looked him in the eye. His meaning was quite clear, as was his irritation, "But you know for I have told you often enough that Cassandra's the one who has always had the more specific visions of destruction, of anything relating to this war. That she's the one who sees more detail than I when it comes to situations like this." It was a reiteration of his words but he hoped that the repetition would somehow sink in this time.

"She sees the end of Troy," he pointed out.

"As I sometimes do," he replied sharply. "I hardly think it fair that you continue to condemn her in such a manner for unfairness is hardly a trait I associate with you, Deiphobus. Her visions have been shown to be real – not once has she been wrong. Uncomfortable to bear, that is true, but they are truth. I'll not hear of you denigrating her any further for she at least has the courage to carry them where others could not."

Deiphobus realized that he was treading on shaky ground and decided to step away. It would do him no good to get into an argument over this. "All right, Helenus. I'll try to be more understanding. Other than the Temple, is there something else that I should be seeing? Another place of some concern for you? Is it possible that they are trying to mislead us?"

"I don't think so. It's almost as if they don't quite realize what they are doing. Because the only ones close enough to do anything are Heracles and King Menelaus. And neither man is what I would call a strategist. That's more the province of Odysseus or Diomedes."

"Have you shown this to Hector?"

Shaking his head, he expelled a breath. "The one time I tried to bring it up, he accused me of seeing treasonous plots in everything. I hardly think he'll give any credence to this theory. I just think that something is going on," he paused a moment, his eyes going hazy as he stared off at things the other man couldn't see. "Or will happen."

"Do you have any theory as to what?"

"In order to formulate such a thing I would have to be able to think like Odysseus. That kind of cunning has always been more your style than my own, brother," it was a pointed reminder of their childhood games. While the others were content to run around, Deiphobus had often been known to study out the terrain. Had been known to use what he knew of his siblings in order to defeat them, to trick them into giving themselves away.

This was what Deiphobus had wanted to hear. Here was a chance to use his own skills in the battle, to seek out what no one else could. It was what he did best and he was not ashamed of this talent at subterfuge. He was quite aware of how people felt about his skills at sneaking around.

Aeneas had made it perfectly clear that he found such actions dishonorable, though he had no qualms about using what their spies had found out. "You think this might be how the Achaeans snuck in and kidnapped Helen?"

"I heard something about it," he said. Brushing his dark hair back, he shook his head. "But I don't believe a word of it for it hardly seems like something Odysseus or even Diomedes would counsel. If such a tunnel exists, they would use it to steal the Pallas, not Helen. For doing otherwise goes against the peace treaty that we all desperately need. I said as much to him. And, as usual, was ignored by him.

"It seems that the only one Paris will take counsel from is the gracious Lady Aphrodite," he paused a moment to bow his head in reverence.

"What I believe is that our lady sister Helen has a plan – and you have some idea about what it entails. I'm not going to ask you to break confidence with her," he said, though it was unnecessary. They both knew each other well enough to know that such would never be the case.

Whatever else he was, Deiphobus was a man who kept confidences. It was one of the reasons Hector trusted him so much. He knew that he could count on him to keep silent about what he'd been told. Or what he'd surmised from what he heard. So, even ones reluctantly given to him, he kept. "No matter how tentative it may be. It is sure to work out in the end, these things always do. But I must ask why you've sought me. We hardly get along."

"That's true," he agreed, glad that he didn't have to lie or pretend with Helenus. As unnerving as he was, there was comfort in knowing the character of the person you were dealing with. "But I need someone who can make sure that Paris doesn't send the army out on a fool's errand. There is no point in starting up the conflict again over a lie.

"And since I cannot find Hector anywhere, I thought of you. No, I didn't check his quarters," he was quick to say, knowing that question would be asked of him. "After Andromache hit me over the head with a pot for suggesting that we do some scouting, I avoid his place."

Helenus had a thin smile on his face.

It lacked both humor and mockery, an expression that was merely there to be there. "I would call you a coward but there are not many who would face the wrath of Andromache willingly. If I thought it would do any good, I'd get her angry and send her out against the Achaeans. With the proper motivation, she might actually be able to win this war single handedly. You have shown a good deal of sense in coming here."

"Thanks," Deiphobus sardonically commented, "I think."

"Do you have any idea where he will go first?"

"Well, we both know that he won't see Menelaus on his own. He doesn't have his own regiment, so he'll probably go to see Hector's right hand man," he mused.

"Isn't that you?"

Closing his eyes momentarily, he shook his head at his forgetfulness. Of course, it was excusable. The transition from a commander with his own regiment to second in command under Hector had only recently happened. "I had forgotten that we decided it would be best to gather our forces under our banner. Since we've often been together, it made more sense than to continue to divide the attention of our men."

Helenus titled his head. "Do you honestly think that he'll come to you for aid?"

"Not likely," he replied, "Not after I mocked him."

"Then he'll seek Hector – or dad," he said thoughtfully.

Deiphobus had a sudden vision of Paris showing up at Hector's house, full of news the Achaeans taking Helen. Full of pleas that Hector immediately stop what he was doing and come with him to rescue her. While he would show sympathy for Paris' plight, for that was the kind of man their brother was – Andromache was another matter entirely.

She may tolerate Helen, but she couldn't stand Paris.

Had Deiphobus not known better, he would have thought that Paris had flirted with her when they'd first met and tried to seduce her. It wasn't as if Paris hadn't charmed his way into the hearts of many women. He could easily count the number of women Paris hadn't tried to seduce – and most of them were family.

But Andromache was a different story entirely. Upon first seeing Hector, she'd fallen completely and irrevocably in love with him. She saw no one but him. Lived for no one but him and then their son. If she didn't whack him with a jug for interrupting the only time she had with her husband, she give him a stinging lecture on his irresponsible and cowardly behavior.

Oh, to be a fly on the wall should such a confrontation happen.

With regret, he shook it off. "I don't think even he is foolish enough to risk Andromache so soon after Hector's injury at the hands of Ajax."

Pushing away from the map at last, Helenus started towards the door. "Still, one must check. The last thing we need is an upset that will affect us all. I'll go see father while you check on Hector's quarters. Unless, you would rather speak to him?" he offered, not wanting to call the shots.

It wasn't something he'd ever been comfortable with.

He wished that he'd been given the chance to follow his dream of teaching but his mother had been quite firm in refusing him. She'd convinced Priam that it was not right for a royal son to live in such a vagabond way. One child who had followed a foolish dream was enough for any family.

Considering that Cassandra had been personally chosen by Apollo, one would have thought his mother would've been far more grateful.

"No thanks," he replied, suppressing a shudder. "I can face Andromache as long as I'm not risking her husband's life. Mother's trying to arrange a marriage between me and one of the Achaeans' daughters in the hopes that it'll help end the war. Or give us a new ally and better access to escape should it prove necessary."

Biting his lip, Helenus only nodded his understanding. As much as he wished to tell everyone how hopeless their efforts were, he couldn't. Not only would he be ignored, it was no longer the time to sound the warning bell. The gods had decreed that this was to be.

Knowing all of this did not make the burden any easier to carry.

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_Cold._

_The chill of the night air seeped into her bones. All around her, she could see wisps of air escaping from the lips of the men around her. The robe she was in felt heavy, itchy, and far to big for her body. Beside her, she could hear faint weeping._

_But when she turned to look, she could only make out a dark shape. A being of no real form and no way of knowing for sure if it was a man or a woman. In front of her, a pyre had been raised and a body rested upon it. Straining her eyes to pierce the gloom, she could not see who lay upon it._

_Hopelessness hung in the air for she could not see who made such cries of pain, of agony, that she could feel them into the very marrow of her bones. Whoever this was, he was in endless misery and she wanted nothing more than to end it for him._

_And found that she could not for her legs seemed incapable of movement._

_Frozen in time, her lips could find no voice, unable to even cry out words of consolation._

_For all the accoutrements surrounding the pyre, it was obvious that this was a warrior. An honored warrior of more than mortal strength. From the assembled great men, she thought it possible that it was Achilles. Only he could have caused such an assemblage to gather around him who would bring such offerings and such gifts. For all that he had removed himself from the war, he was still a warrior of renown and might._

_Yet, that seemed quite impossible for she could make out the trim, athletic form of the blond man standing beside a shorter man with hair a similar shade. Both had slim bodies, darkened from time under the sun, and strong from their training. This, she knew, this was Patroclus. Achilles' constant companion and champion, the boy he'd grown up with who had never shown a moment of envy for his friend's greater gifts._

_As such, he was the one man Achilles never doubted._

_The one he would do just about anything for._

_It would be rather touching if she could forget the way Achilles looked on the field of battle. The perfection of his technique as he moved about, slaughtering everything that crossed his path as if it was hay. Hay he was merely harvesting and not men whose lives he was cutting short and forever separating from the people they knew who loved and depended upon them for protection._

_From across the way, she saw movement. Menelaus stepped near the wood. Lips moved and she strained to make out his words, hearing nothing from him. In his hand, a burning torch was held. But it was far from steady. To her wonderment, this great leader's hand shook, weighted down with the knowledge of what he was about to do and who he was to do it to._

_Standing there, she could only watch as he froze in place, unable to approach the pyre._

_A voice hoarse after hours – perhaps days – of screaming and crying – pleaded with any, with all, to do what had to be done to free him from this agony. To know that he harbored no ill will towards any of them. Would none of them save him? None show compassion upon him?_

_Grief hung heavy in the air. And it clearly became patently obvious that none could light the fire. None could steal themselves up to do the task. None could approach the massive pylon to light the flames that would end the agonies of the man lying upon the wood._

_The cries continued, silencing even the voices that she finally heard from inside the walls of Troy._

_Oh, my Trojans, she could have wept. Could have screamed out the questions, desperate to hear an answer. What have you done? What mischief, what pain, have you caused this day? Of what man have you harmed in such a way that he cannot die easily?_

_What sin has he committed against you that you taunt him this way? Why this anger towards this man that he must suffer such great agony? That his pleas for mercy go heard but none have the strength to answer them? Of what grievous fault does he have that the gods seem immune to his need for release?_

_Lightening pierced the sky, shattering the dark with myriads of colors. Flames exploded before them, enveloping the pyre completely, and the voice was silenced. A prayer answered by the mighty Lord Zeus._

_Or perhaps great Queen Hera's heart had been moved to help one who had been striving with the Achaeans._

"_Let it be known to all of Ilium," a voice called out. The voice that should have been gentle was harsh with the exhaustion that came from the shedding of many tears. It lashed across the hearts of those listening, piercing the minds of those hardened by battle and disappointment._

_Lanced them through with pain and all they could feel was fear._

_Fear over what was done that day and the cost that would be exacted from them all for their ignorance._

"_Let it be known that I, Hera, am not pleased with what you have done this day. Know that any hope you had for surviving this war as a city has been destroyed. Any hope for a quick and peaceable end is no longer within your grasp for you have done something that I find distasteful._

"_All of you will be nothing by the time I am done for your actions to this man. This man who is a child of my heart."_

_Cassandra screamed, feeling the heat sear her, eating her up from within and pushing outwards. Consuming all that she was and leaving behind only something for the gods to use. A flaming emblem, she ran towards her city against her will. Those in the city heard not the voice of the goddess, saw only the gift before them._

_The promise of peace._

_A promise of a return to prosperity._

"_It is a lie!" she tried to call out but her voice was silenced by the sound of the roaring flames. By the sound of the men behind her, dressing and picking up their weapons and putting on their armor. By their prayers of thankfulness and gratitude to the goddess who would grant them victory that night._

"_Your destruction is at hand!" The voice spoke from above, relentless in its excruciating plan._

_The finality was unyielding. "And it shall happen because of your own hubris!"_

"_No!" she yelled, trying to be heard above the chaos of happiness._

_The chaos of sorrow._

_The chaos of pain._

_The chaos of relief._

"_Turn me away." The words soundless and unheard in the night as the gates opened before her. Opened by unseen hands. "See not with your hearts but with your mind. I bring danger to you. Cast your stones down upon me. Destroy me, let me not in."_

_Laocoön stood before the walls, his sons beside him. Panting from their run. "Beware! Beware what you are handling. This is not what it seems to be. Oh, my foolish Trojans…" The rest of his words were strangled out of him by the monstrous snakes that writhed and twisted about him and his children. Twisted and pulled, dragging them into the ocean, and pulling them under._

_A sign from the gods that they were upset with him._

_Silencing his voice forever_.

"It's all right," a voice soothed. "You're all right, Cassandra."

Opening her eyes, the scream died on her lips. She stared with unseeing eyes into the concerned ones of Helen, barely acknowledging her presence. Flames danced along her nerves, searing them with their heat and pain. In her mind, she saw the ravages about the town. The children falling to the blade. The women being carted off into the night.

And Helen…Helen waiting for Menelaus as though none of the pain touched her. As though all of this was some kind of game to her. She stood beside him, looking as if she'd never been away from him – as if Paris was nothing more than some bump in the road that she had tripped upon.

Brushing her hair away from her face, she blinked back the vestiges of the dream.

Blinked away the relief she felt for having been pulled out of the nightmare and into the light of day.

"Are you cold?" she asked, concerned. "You're shivering so much. Have you become ill?" Helen's nervousness was apparent in the way her own hands shook, trembled. The prolonged silence unnerved her and she had to bite her lip to still any further words, though they trembled upon her lips, begging for release.

She had never been comfortable with silence.

Slowly, Cassandra regained control over herself. Pushing herself upright, she ignored the familiar, hated, piteous looks of her sisters. Those were looks she could bear for they were ones not filled with malice or judgment, though they were not free of sadness that she had been so foolish.

These were the looks she'd been getting for so many years, there were times in which she wondered if she would know how to live without them.

"You should not be here," she said instead of answering any of her questions. They were inconsequential to the reality of what this woman's presence meant in the end. The momentary comfort of having someone wake her from her dream fled as she realized that Helen didn't seem to think that she was in the wrong for being here in this room among the priestesses.

She did not seem to realize that she shouldn't be there. This was not her place and never would be her place. No matter how Cassandra felt about her, Helen was a part of the royal household. She had married the Prince of the city and should be in his home.

To be in the temporary dwelling of the priests and priestesses flew in the face of their society's hierarchal order.

Helen ignored her words, rubbing warmth back into Cassandra's arms. Ignoring the tension she felt, she persisted in trying to connect with her. More than anything, she wanted to help her. In helping her, she would gain the help she sought. In the back of her mind, she recognized the selfishness of her act.

Using Cassandra's pain and loneliness, her fear, that was what she was doing. In order to achieve her ends, she had to manipulate her into taking her to the Achaeans camp. But she figured that if she talked to Menelaus, then by working together, they could end the war.

In so doing, she could heal Cassandra's weary and hurt soul. "What did you see?"

"A pyre," she replied dully. Unable to hold back a reply for she'd been taught that she must always give an answer to a question regarding her dreams and visions. Even if they would not be believed, she must answer. Clearing her throat, she clarified her statement.

After all, a pyre could mean anything. "The funeral pyre of a warrior still very much alive. Alive but in such pain that he was begging for the release of death. A release that grief prohibited anyone from helping him."

A gasp of horror escaped Helen. Her hands covered her mouth, "How horrible." The fantastical elements of the vision were to ghastly to consider. And yet…and yet, there was something in Cassandra's eyes that made her believe in what she heard. Perhaps her divine blood allowed her to slip under Apollo's curse, letting her listen to the truth of what she heard.

Or perhaps she was so tired of all the death and destruction, of watching good men battle with other men, that she was willing to believe the younger woman.

"As all my dreams are," Cassandra slowly said, pushing herself up to her feet. "You had best join the family for the morning's breaking the fast meal."

"No, I will stay with you," she stood up and followed her into the antechamber. They both washed their faces in silence, Helen contemplating the enigma that was Cassandra. Unaware that the other woman was doing the same to her. And that neither woman was able to come up to any satisfactory conclusion concerning the other.

Finally, she expelled a breath. "You know, if you're angry with Paris, this isn't the best way to get him to beg you for forgiveness. All you're going to do is make him madder at me."

"Leave Paris to me," Helen's voice was hard on the order.

And though she sounded confident, Cassandra had little faith in her. For she'd seen the way Helen was around her idiot brother. She acted the way the other women did, with a besotted infatuation that did _nothing_ to tame or temper the man.

It was hardly an inspiring thought.

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"Where have you been?" Paris practically jumped her when she walked into their quarters.

Making no reply, she walked around him and into the dressing room. With quick, almost jerky motions, she opened the cabinet doors and pulled out a fresh chiton and shawl. The oldest and plainest she could find. A far more difficult task than she'd envisioned.

She hid a sigh at the sight of so many lovely clothes, with matching shawls. Elsewhere in the room were jewels to go with each outfit. There were many who did not have even one dress this nice. And here she was, with several – many she'd only worn once and tossed away.

How could she be so thoughtlessly wasteful?

"Helen, my darling love, I asked you a question."

Moving behind the screen, she undressed and put on a clean outfit. Used to being dressed as she was, she found it a difficult task to manage on her own. But one she managed to do by concentrating on her hands. On the way the clothes should fall and be bound to keep from falling apart.

"Why do you not answer me, my only love?"

Ignoring him, on the other hand, was rather tricky. For when she was looking at him, when he was speaking to her, she seemed oblivious to everything and everyone around her. She'd forgotten how his looks, the sound of his voice, sent her heart racing uncontrollably. How she just wanted to forget herself in his arms.

But she had a plan – and he would not sway her from it.

His voice was tentative, rather uncertain for him. "Helen?"

Keeping constantly in motion was not an ideal answer, for sooner or later she would run out of things to do. It was a temporary fix at best. But it was the only thing that came to her mind. From where she was, she pinned her hair back up and placed the shawl over her head, covering her face with it modestly.

Paris was getting worried by her continued silence. As a man who'd had more than a few lovers and had at one time been married to Oenone, the mountain nymph. He'd had more than his share of the silent treatment. When one was involved with women, it was something that came with the territory.

In fact, his former wife still wasn't talking to him.

And she had even let their son take the Achaeans to Troy by a secret route so that they wouldn't be detected until it was too late to do anything to stop them.

He couldn't figure out what her problem was. She had to have known that he would leave her once the truth came out about who he was. Living as a shepherd in the mountains was hardly the right life for a prince. And he could hardly bring her with him.

It was quite clear that he'd been promised the most beautiful woman in the world – that would be Helen, daughter of the King of the gods. Not some nymph whose father was some unimportant river god.

As such, he couldn't offend his new wife with the presence of an old one.

Why couldn't she see that his reasons for abandoning her were completely justified?

But he'd never received it from his beautiful, complacent, and wonderful Helen. Even after his retreat from the duel with Menelaus, she'd been full of scolding for him. Not this eerie quiet.

Walking up behind her, he tried to catch her. If he held her, he'd be able to figure out what was going on. Tried to catch this suddenly elusive woman who was playing no game with him.

At least, he didn't think that she was. "What's wrong? Has someone been cruel to you? Said something that has offended you in some way? Can you not see that it is their jealousy that causes such remarks to fall?"

Brushing off his arms, she went to the door and walked out, having said nothing to him.

Nothing at all.

She was feeling rather proud of herself for that. It was a step away from the strange emotions he evoked within her and a step towards the woman she once was. With every step she took, she found that she could keep walking and breath easier. Though she did not want to incur the wrath of the Lady Aphrodite, she couldn't allow this war to continue if she could do something to stop it.

_Oh, mighty Queen Hera, strength of women everywhere, continue to grant me your strength. I need you to help me for I cannot do this alone_.

Warmth suffused her and she felt strength enter her. Taking just a moment to breath in and out, she bowed her head in thanks. Then with measured steps, she went out to where Cassandra and the other Temple workers were, noting their looks of surprise. Swallowing back her words of greeting, she turned her attention to the woman standing beside the High Priest, ready for whatever task she was about to involve herself in.

This, she knew, this was the first test.

Cassandra, had she felt any surprise, hid it well. Helen clearly saw the resigned look on her face. And one that clearly said _how long until she tires of this routine of showing concern that she does not feel_? That stung but, again, she swallowed the hurt back with effort.

After the way she'd spent much of the war inside the palace walls, watching as men fought and died over her, it was only right that her motives were questioned. It was something she would've insisted on doing had someone in her household made an abrupt turn in behavior. This was something she had never done, something no woman of the Trojan Royal Household had done.

Yet, the earth's shaking had woken her up. She could still hear the screams of fear from the women as they rushed to find cover. As they took the children from the nursery out into the open, hoping to find some safe place outside.

The smell of smoke lingered in the air and tainted their clothes.

It was time that she did something more for this place that had become her home than bring war upon it.

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_Author's Note : If anyone's gone back and reread this, yes, there are some changes. Some are small, like correcting spelling and some are large. The biggest one is about Seraph. I found out that Eurystheus actually had a daughter who wanted the girdle and that she might actually have travelled with Heracles as he tracked the Golden Hind. As I now was in possession of her name, Admeta (or Admete) I changed it to reflect that knowledge. Also, Thetis is a nymph, not a goddess, so I reinstated her status_.


	20. Well, Bother Me Now

That night, the two walked into the Palace in a strange, companionable silence. Cassandra feeling rather surprised by the fact that not a word of complaint escaped Helen's lips no matter what she'd found or did. Not one. She'd done all that they asked of her and even more. Almost nothing betrayed her, not even when asked to pick up dirty, possibly lice infected laundry.

A small grimace had crossed her face but nothing else.

And she had stayed long after the others had left.

Despite herself, she found that she was impressed with Helen. "Thank you," she quietly said to the servants who rushed down the hallway to meet them. The basket in her arm was passed over to one of the waiting servants while her shawl was taken by another. She'd almost refused but remembered that this was the way it was done in her father's home. Though it was an extravagance to her now, at one time this was normal to her.

Second nature if one had to give a name to this behavior. "And thank you for your help, Lady Helen. It was most welcome. I know that I am not alone in that opinion."

"I feel like I should be thanking you," Helen quietly remarked, allowing the servant to remove her outer cloak and shawl. The weariness she felt had nothing to do with the exertion of the day's work and everything to do with all that she had seen, the results of her running away with Paris.

_What had they done_?

In all her life, she'd never seen such suffering on such a large scale. Even when she travelled with Theseus for that short space of time, she'd never seen the pain in the world. He'd taken care to protect her from seeing it, though he could not stop what she heard.

Hearing the warriors speak of it did not compare to actually experiencing it.

A part of her wanted to blame the gods. To curse them for allowing this, for creating this havoc within her heart but she knew that she had a hand in what happened. As Theseus once said, _the gods can only work through us. I agree that it sometimes feels as though we have no control. But we have the choice to reject their interference or accept their aid. They aren't as all powerful as we like to think they are_.

She remembered asking him, _What need we of the gods then_?

The answer had surprised her. _Because, Lady Helen, everyone needs to believe in something greater than ourselves. A power that is helping us on our path in this life. The gods do help, never forget that. But they can only do so much. The rest has to come from us_.

Cassandra tilted her head to the side, rather curious by this. As far as she could tell, she had not done anything extra-ordinary. She had done only what she had to. Even if she disagreed with their actions and their choices, her family did the same for the good of Troy. "For what?"

"You allowed me to come with you," she replied quietly. "And you did not push me away when I offered to help, silently reproaching me for my trying to step beyond the boundaries of my acknowledged station. You were patient with my stumbling as I was trying to figure out what to do. A fact which delayed you more often than not," she added, recalling the irritation on Priest Khryseis' face.

"It was nothing when you were willing to do the work, my lady. In truth, as I said earlier, your offered hand was of an inestimable aid today. We accomplished more with your help than we normally would. And the people took comfort in your presence." An honest woman, she had to give credit were it was owed, even when the source of that help surprised her. Covering a yawn, she started her ascension up the stairs.

Helen shook her head at the rather dismissing words of the gift that Cassandra had given her by trusting her though she resented what Helen had brought with her when she came to Troy. The knowledge and pain that she knew what would be coming, it seemed to fade away in light of Helen's actions towards the Trojan people – especially the poor and injured ones.

"How can you stand it?" she felt compelled to ask. For Cassandra's poise had not wavered once during their long hours of work. Helen's own strength, her resolve, had weakened when she saw the damage that was being done among the people.

And she found a strange emotion welling up within her as she watched the younger woman. An emotion she had never felt before for or about anyone – jealousy.

From somewhere deep inside, the priestess had found the necessary strength and words to offer those who needed her comfort. And while the words she sometimes spoke were not what they wished to hear, they were the words they _needed_ to hear.

So, how did she do it?

The question stopped her retreat. Slowly, she turned back around and stared down at her. A contemplative look in her eyes as she studied her, weighing her sincerity and desire to know. "The only way I can, by doing all that I can to help ease their pains and burdens. It isn't much. Nothing ever is when death surrounds us on all sides, but it is all I can do."

"Helen!" Paris' voice announced his presence, shattering the moment of confidence between the two women. "I have heard how you've trudged around town like some…some servant. Like a drudge. Have you forgotten who you are? What privileges are yours to enjoy in my father's home?"

"A servant to the people," she icily retorted, ignoring his other questions. There was only one that she wanted to answer. The only one that meant anything to her now. After so long of living in a dream with him, she was waking up to the woman she had been raised to be.

Sparta had not fallen upon the shoulders of her brothers.

It had been _**her**_ inheritance.

As a result, she had been raised to rule over them, to fulfill all the required duties of a ruler. Even when she lived as a vagabond, she had always known that she would return home when the time came. Sparta was her life's blood and her strength.

It was she who had been trained to rule the country as a solitary ruler. Her lot was not that of Clytemnestra, who ruled at the side of her husband, Agamemnon. She may have chosen to allow Menelaus equal status as her king but the fact remained that _**she**_ was Sparta's Queen and he was her consort.

It was her job to succor her people in their times of need and to serve as the living image of the goddess on earth. Without her, Menelaus had no right to rule in Sparta. She knew that this was partly the reason that he persisted in this war, to protect the inheritance of his daughter.

But another part of her remembered his affection, his gentleness with her.

And the fact that he had not cared that their first – and only child – had been a girl. Unlike some men, he had loved Hermione unconditionally and kept her by his side, training her to take command of the political aspects kingdom while she had shown her how to be its spiritual leader.

Yet, she could not help but feel like she'd failed him. That she had failed in her duty to him and to Sparta somehow – especially when she'd seen how many fine sons and daughters Clytemnestra had. For a long time it had grieved her that it appeared that she would not have anymore. That she could not carry any child to full term.

His affection for her never wavered, never faltered.

Paris blinked, shocked by her tone. By her words. By the very fact that she had ignored his concern. His hand came to rest upon her arm as he almost forced her to look at him. "What?"

"That is who I am, a servant to the people. At long last, I feel as if I've finally remembered who I am. There is no shame in doing what is right, sir. It is something the _**both**_ of us should be doing far more often. Take your hand off of me," her voice intentionally sharp on the order.

"What's gotten into you?" he asked, shooting a venomous glare at Cassandra. Involuntarily, she stepped back, feeling the anger and disappointment heavy in his eyes. "Has her madness _**infected**_ you?"

The ringing sound of the slap resounded in the hall.

"I daresay that her _**sanity**_ has infected me. And I am glad of it. Leave the both of us in peace, Prince Paris." Grabbing hold of Cassandra's hand, she pulled her up the stairs and towards the rooms that the priestesses were staying in.

At the top, a thought occurred to her and she turned around. The authority in her voice was clear. As was her intent as she stared down at him. "And I do mean the both of us. If you dare to stand in my way, you will find out just why Spartan men fear their women."

Paris watched them disappear. For perhaps the first time ever, he felt fear of his wife. _**Of**_ her, not for her and he wasn't quite sure what to do.

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Deiphobus knocked on the door. Cassandra looked up from her mending, a frown between her brows. This was the last thing she needed. Yet another brother to scold her about her _unholy_ and _unnatural_ influence over the unassailable Helen.

"Helen is not here," she told him. It was the first time since the earthquake had happened a week earlier that she had been without the other woman. She almost found the lack unnerving. As much as she hated to admit it, she was beginning to get fond of the other woman.

Even if she was crazier than she herself was rumored to be. "And I don't know when she will be back."

"I didn't come to see her," he paused, entering and shutting the door behind him. "I came to see you."

"Why? So you can further mock me?" she bitterly asked. "Or yell at me for putting a spell on the fair, pure, and blameless Helen? I've heard it all from our kind and gracious, most loving brother Paris." Sarcasm was so thick in her voice, he flinched back.

He hadn't though she had it in her. "No, Cassandra," he sat down.

She carried on, not hearing him. "Well, you needed worry about my _poisonous_ influence upon her any longer for I won't be here soon to harm her delicate mind. We shall move back into the Temple tomorrow. The debris has been cleared away and the wall has been repaired as good as it can be."

"Cassandra, I didn't come to lecture you or insult you," he reiterated.

"You…you didn't?"

The surprise in her voice rather insulted him. "I don't always mock you."

An eyebrow went up in question. "You don't?"

"All right, so may be I do," he replied, shrugging. "What can I say? You're crazy."

She gaped at him, "Am I supposed to thank you for that?"

Ignoring the question, he leaned forward, "The point is, that's not why I'm here now. I need to talk to you about your deal with Helen. About her plan," he elaborated, as if she didn't have a clue as to what he was referring to.

She rolled her eyes. "I should've known that she would figure into this somehow. Deiphobus, I can assure you that there is no deal between Helen and I. I will admit to becoming rather fond of her presence. She has been quite a help to me when I go out to help our people. When I distribute what little we have to them. But I am not even contemplating her ludicrous plan to…do what she wants."

While she may not have approved of it, she had enough sense to keep quiet about what it was that Helen asked of her. Even if she suspected that Deiphobus knew something of it, she would not break confidence with her. It was the least that she could do for the woman.

"You better reconsider your position on that," he ordered, half rising to his feet before he sat back down. As much as he wanted to shake some sense into her, she was the one Helen had chosen to work with. It was upon her shoulders that most of the dangerous tasks would fall.

Therefore, he had to do his best to help her implement a plan – even if she didn't like it.

"Why?" she asked, almost scared by the thunderous look on his face. She hadn't thought that he would be so invested in her actions with Helen. It was no secret that he wanted Helen as his own. There weren't very many men who didn't want her. "Wouldn't it suit your purposes to show up Paris as the better man?"

"It would make me happier to have this war end, Cassandra. You and I have a lot to plan."

Studying him, she saw only sincerity in his eyes. If even he was thinking that Helen was right, perhaps it was time to put some serious thought into this. Hector was full of an idea of what was honorable and right in this situation.

Paris was a romantic, full of impetuous courage which, unfortunately, only related to his situation with Helen.

And Helenus, though she loved him dearly, was a visionary. It was his burden but one he was glad to have.

And then there was Deiphobus. Of all her brothers, Deiphobus was the most practical. The most focused on ending the war, even though it seemed that the only feasible plan cost him the glory. If they did this, he would never be able to reveal his part.

The blame would all fall upon her shoulders.

With a sigh, she admitted the truth that she really feared. It seemed that she was going to lose a lot more than the regard she managed to regain from Apollo in this feat. But…if it meant the end of the war, then she would have to bear it.

And bear it with grace.

Still, she was confused by his motives. "I don't understand why this means so much to you, Deiphobus. I'm not as blind as everyone seems to think I am. You want Helen."

"Do you think that I am incapable of loving our people?" he harshly asked. "Am I a bloodthirsty monster?"

"No," her response was quick and heartfelt. Of all the things she could say about him, that was not one that came instantly to mind.

"Then why do you think that I would put myself above them? Yes, I want Helen – I am a normal man. That body of hers alone would drive a celibate man to distraction," he admitted without a trace of shame. "If you were honest with yourself, you could see that perfect Helenus wants her too."

Shifting uncomfortably, she had to admit that he was right. Her brother, though he'd often seemed above the temptations of the flesh, did want Helen. If she had needed any proof of the danger that the woman was, it was that Helenus desired her.

"But I, unlike Hector, think that the only way to resolve this conflict is to return Helen to Menelaus." Wisely, he made no comment when he realized that she silently agreed with him. Though he knew that it would only partially solve the problem before them, it would ease the burden upon them all if Menelaus' forces left.

He wondered how many would follow him and was hoping for the majority to do so. They could handle a smaller force better than the hundreds camped outside their walls.

Drawing in a deep breath, she put aside the mending. "I'm listening."

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Odysseus held the scroll in his hand, contemplating the nervous youth in front of him. "Are you sure about this?" he asked, wondering why he was hearing from Priam after all this time. Not only that, as he studied the parchment some more, he picked up on some details that he'd missed.

It wasn't consistent for he could see Priam's writing, his familiar way of making certain letters. Yet, there was something about the script that bothered him. It wasn't as sure as his old friend's writing and he could tell that it wasn't because of the stress or worry of the war.

In fact, there seemed to be something youthful about it.

But as far as he knew, Priam did not usually let anyone do his private writing for him. He preferred to do all of his own communications in his own hand, knowing that there was less of a chance for miscommunications between him and his correspondences.

The only time he allowed another to do the work for him was when it was written on clay tablets. The training for such work was different than writing on papyrus.

"Yes, sir. King Priam was most insistent upon meeting you," his voice squeaked, revealing his age.

Of course, his discerning eye had already calculated that this boy was no more than a year older than his son. The thought of his son hurt his heart. Telemachus would now be ten years old. He hadn't seen him in years, though he felt that he knew something of him.

From reading between the lines, he knew that his once light blond hair had darkened and was a shade darker than his. Luckily, his eyes had remained the hazel of Penelope's. And, much to the consternation of his nurse, he'd inherited all of his father's curiosity. Though Penelope assured him that she'd taught him to be cautious, to always analyze a problem before doing anything rash.

But reading such things wasn't enough to assuage his pain. The wounds he sustained on the foods raids or in the few battles they had were nothing compared to this agony. What he wanted was something that was always just out of reach. Letters weren't enough to fill the void carved in his heart for his family.

Especially when he had a feeling that there was something he wasn't being told.

Swallowing back, he concentrated on the youth before him. The boy's eyes were a soft blue. Dark brown hair curled around his tanned face. His cheeks had lost his baby fat but from the smoothness of them, he knew that the boy had never known the touch of a razor.

The deprivation of war had stunted his growth and, though he wished to be generous and say he was slender, he was not. The boy was skinny and needed a few goods meals which may do much to help him regain the weight and put some muscle upon his frame.

"And I'm to bring Diomedes with me?" he asked. It was that one point, more than anything else, that struck him as wrong. Priam had no knowledge of the other man. Why should he wish to meet another wily one? Did he not realize the danger in doing so? "Somehow, I doubt that is the King's wishes."

"I only know what I was told," he stammered, half awed and half afraid of this man. Odysseus' valor in battle was not unknown. But overwhelming his battle prowess was his tricky mind. "If I knew more, I would tell you. Please, sir, what is your reply?"

_Accept the offer, Odysseus. It is no random thing, this proposed meeting_.

It not the first time he'd heard the voice of Athena speaking to him in counsel. As with the other times, he chose to trust her. She'd never let him down. "Tell King Priam that I would be delighted to meet with him in three days time. And I agree with the arrangements he has made." Something prevented him from mentioning Diomedes' name and he wondered about that.

Once alone, he sat back and contemplated the words on the paper with absent eyes. With a sigh, he rose and went to find Diomedes. This was probably their one and only chance to get their hands on the Palladium. The question was, how were they going to accomplish such a goal? The one thing they needed was an insider, someone on their side who could get them into the sanctuary.

It wasn't as if the Trojans would leave such a precious item out where anyone could walk off with it.

The question was, who would they be able to find? Who in that city would betray it to them?

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Achilles sighed, watching Patroclus walk away from him. While he wasn't quite disgusted with him, Achilles was quite aware that his friend wished that he would just accept Agamemnon's apology and get back into the war. Just last week, they'd had to beat back Hector and his men.

One of their ships had been burned before Achilles had relented and allowed him to lead his men into battle. Just the sight of Achilles' armor and his men had been enough to help them push them back to the walls. For the first time, Patroclus had understood the rush of blood and headiness of battle.

As a result, he couldn't understand why Achilles didn't want to get back into the war. While he could admit that his friend had a point, there was more at stake than what he could see. There were no words to explain it to him. It wasn't pride that kept him out, not really.

It's just that he felt he couldn't relent without looking weak.

Okay, it was a pride thing.

His eyes were drawn to the walls of Troy and he watched as the men and women gathered at the top, looking down upon them. He wondered what was going on now for he could see the Priest of Apollo and just beyond him stood the Priestess Cassandra, talking to him urgently. Her hands gestured wildly and he wondered what she could possibly be saying.

Was there another change in the feelings of the Trojans? Would Hector try to lead his men onto the battlefield once again? Or would they remain on the top of their wall, staring down at them? Tempted to mock but unsure if one of their insults might be the one that pushed him into action?

They were quite aware that he was the defining member of the troops. Not even Heracles had half his prowess in battle. Ajax had speed and agility. Iolaus was an amazing bowman and far better with the sword than he had given him credit for. Odysseus was cunning and had a deft hand with the sword. Diomedes had endurance. But they paled in comparison to him. This wasn't ego speaking.

It was truth.

The Trojans were afraid of him and wished to keep him out of the fighting.

Getting up, he walked along the shoreline, trying to think about his next move. Picking up a stone, he idly tossed it between his hands before trying to see if it would skip along the surface of the water as he often did in the pond at home.

The larger waves swallowed up the stone and he sighed. His amber eyes, another sign of his divine mother, stared at the waves, feeling lost and aimless. There were times when he felt that he was sinking beneath the waves of his own expectations, unable to pull free even if he could skim above it for a while.

"_My son, does something trouble you_?" Thetis asked, though she did not appear to him. Underneath the calm was a rage that simmered. For the past few days, Zeus had been trying to convince her to talk to Achilles, convince him to return to the battle. But she would not – not unless it truly was something that he wanted.

His lips twisted, "What doesn't these days?" But he wouldn't say more than that. There really was nothing more to be said. In the first few days, he'd ranted and raved. Once his anger had cooled, though, he thought about what he was doing. Much to his appalled dismay, he was acting in the same manner Agamemnon had.

"_Is there any counsel I might offer you_?" There was some apprehension in her voice, fearing that what he'd ask of her would be something she didn't want to do.

"No, mother. Thank you," he sighed, tossing his blond head back. His fingers combed through his long strands, knowing that he'd have to get a trim. Whether he was fighting or not, his hair was just becoming too unmanageable.

In the distance, he could see Heracles practicing with Iolaus. To his eyes, the demigod looked awkward and yet, held his own against the vastly superior skills of Iolaus. Skills the other man must have honed when he was helping his cousin Orestes.

After watching them for a time, a slight smile crossed his face. Approaching them, he made sure that they could hear him. One could never be sure upon the rocky shore who was coming. Or for what purpose. "Mind if I join you?"

Iolaus looked between the two demigods and stepped back. Raising his hands in surrender, "I know when I'm bested," he teased. "Go right ahead, Herc."

Studying the other man through narrowed eyes, he shrugged carelessly. It was obvious that there was something on his mind. Something he wished to speak about and yet, could not find the words to say. "There's one thing I should warn you about, Achilles."

"And what's that?" he asked, smirking. His steps carried him the rest of the way down. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Iolaus sit further up the shoreline. The sword he'd been using propped up against another rock. He wasn't close enough to interfere but remained near enough that should they run into trouble, he'd be able to help out. Not that Achilles thought it was possible.

What kind of fool was idiotic enough to go up against either him or Heracles?

Especially when they were together?

Okay, the war god Ares – but he was more of an exception than a rule.

"I'm much better with the club," he admitted. Then, a shark like smile crossed his face. "But I did learn a few tricks from the Queen of the Amazons."

The sword in his hand paused as he was drawing it out. Tilting his head, he recalled what he knew of the Amazons and their prowess. True daughters of Ares, they were skilled in warfare in ways he envied. In the Attic War, they had spectacularly proven it, though at great cost to their numbers.

Yet, the fact remained quite clear. These fierce warriors had almost taken the Acropolis in their attempt to regain Antiope, the Amazon queen's younger sister. The one Theseus had foolishly claimed as his bride, believing that there would be no restitution for his actions because he'd sent an emissary to tell them that she'd consented to be his bride.

Fool.

The Amazons don't easily believe the words of a man – especially after what happened to one of their own. For when Heracles had killed Lycia, it had changed the way the Amazons looked at those around them. Before that task had come before him, they had been more willing to take on male students.

They were a little more wary, a little guarded. Their society had become closed, keeping all things they did a secret between them and their closest allies. Though he'd tried his best to get one of them to teach him, they had not been willing.

As they were the only ones to see through his disguise without the aid of a trick, he wished that he'd been able to learn from them. Though, of course, those on Skyros had been well aware of who he was. It would have been impossible to have missed the birth of his son, Neoptolemus, on that Island.

He wondered idly how the boy was doing. By now, he should be of age to join the battle.

"I'll take that into consideration," he promised, thinking how oddly dignified they sounded for two men who shared more than just a little in common.

Heracles waited, watching the other man. Wondering what his first move would be. It was true what he'd said, the sword felt unnatural in his hands. He wasn't the most skilled swordsman in the army and wearing armor only encumbered him, slowing down his natural agility in the field.

Achilles was quite comfortable fighting both ways, which gave him the advantage. The man had no fear of any enemy – be they swordsman or bowman. With flawless skill, he could unleash a flurry of activity that lasted hours and still remain in complete control over the fight even as he appeared to lose control over himself.

Only the small twinge in his leg gave him away. The swords clashed, drowned in the roar of the waves as they dueled on the sand, Iolaus their only known witness. In skill, Achilles was unmatched. But even his skill was nothing compared to Heracles' sheer strength and endurance.

Finally Achilles was able to gain the upper hand. Breathing deeply, he bowed. "Thanks, I needed that."

While the required answer should've been _anytime_, Heracles wasn't going to offer it. From the burn in his legs and his heavy breathing, he knew that he'd not be able to fight this man often. "I could tell. Something you want to tell me?" he asked.

Narrowing his eyes, he studied the older man. "Why do you stay?" It was something that had been bothering him for quite some time. It wasn't as if there was anything in Troy that the demigod could possibly want.

"Where? In Troy?" he asked, tilting his head and giving it some thought. "I stay because Menelaus is a friend. He was the reason I joined the army – but I could take it or leave it at any time. I have nothing to prove."

"And you think I do?" he belligerently challenged him. The grip on his sword tightened minimally, threateningly – though he was quite sure that they couldn't fight again. Not yet at least.

"You're still here though you have quit the battle, aren't you?" wondering how far he dared to push him. As clearly demonstrated, the younger man had a flashpoint temper. It wouldn't take to much to set him off.

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Hector glanced out over the land, his eyes surveying the Achaeans below. No matter how many times he looked and studied the fields, they remained the same in number and determination. Rubbing the back of his neck, he felt more than saw Andromache come and stand beside him. Under the veil, the sun burnished her hair in shades of bronze.

Reaching out, she rested a hand on his arm. "What are you thinking?" she quietly asked, wondering if she was out of line. So often over the course of this war, she had tried to speak with him of it. Tried to get him to share his burden with her and had been continually shut out.

She quite feared that he thought that to not speak of it protected her from the fears of war. If only he knew that doing so did the exact opposite. By refusing to speak to her, he only caused her to fear more for him and the men he fought with. It only made her fear what would happen to her should the unthinkable happen.

Should Cassandra prove to be right and the walls fell to the Achaeans, she feared that she would not be killed but enslaved.

"That we are in trouble should Heracles convince Achilles to rejoin the war," he finally said, turning her to face the duel on the beach. For the first time, she could hear defeat in his voice. Defeat and hopelessness. He knew what he sounded like but could do nothing to alter that.

The situation was what it was. And there was nothing any of them could do about it. It occurred to him that if they had only listened to Cassandra, they might've been able to evade much of this.

Yet, to reject Helen and her choice was to violate the laws of hospitality – and that was something he never could do. No matter the end result, one had to accept all guests and treat them as family, if not better. For one never knew if one was entertaining the gods. Those who failed in that duty met with unpleasant ends.

"Of all the sights I've seen in my duty upon this wall, that is the most heartbreaking."

Watching the men, she could see what he was saying. "What do you think of his chances for success?" she asked, feeling shivers run down her spine as she watched the grace of Achilles. The man was unstoppable and she knew, without a doubt, that should he ever renter the war, they would all perish in his wake.

Gently rubbing her hand, he shrugged. "I don't know. Of all the men out there, Heracles' has the least to lose – and the least to gain."

"There is the gold, the wealth of Troy," she pointed out.

"What need has he of them when his brother is now the king of Tiryns? And he's the son of a god?"

"What need has Achilles of glory when his mother is a powerful daughter of Oceanus?" she retorted.

To that Hector had no answer. It was true, what she said. There were many out there who had not been a part of the original competition, had not made the oath. What did they stand to gain? "May be we could just bribe them all to go away," he cynically said.

"Hector, you know that there isn't enough wealth in the world to satisfy them. Such a suggestion is beneath you," she scolded him, her hazel eyes snapping. "What they want is no longer attainable."

"What do you mean?" he asked sharply. "Has Paris done anything stupid?"

Andromache scoffed. "It isn't Paris you should be worried about, husband. It is Helen."

"Not this again," he groaned. "Listen, I have talked with Cassandra. Mother has scolded her. She remains firm in her assertion that Helen wishes to be with her. That she has used no spell nor any kind of bribe to coerce Helen to help her in her charitable deeds. And why? Because she's worried about what her decision has done to our people. Does that sound like a woman who would betray us?"

"Betrayal comes in many forms," she remonstrated him. "What you are thinking of requires letting the armies below into our city. Or giving them our battle plans. What I speak of is a bit more basic, personal. Mark my words, she's going to leave us to fend for ourselves."

"And go where?" he asked, deciding to humor her. With his own eyes, he'd seen the devotion Helen had for the people of this city. She wouldn't play him fast and loose. It was one of the few reasons he was kind to her when all others turned their backs upon her.

"Where do you think?" she cryptically asked. Then dropped the act for he stared at her blankly, obviously he did not understand her words. "Are you really that blind? I believe that she plans to return to Menelaus – soon."

"Why would you think that?"

She shook her head, unable to believe that he couldn't grasp the truth. "You are often in war councils so you do not see how often she looks longingly at the camps beyond our walls. How often she wonders about Sparta and her daughter, fearing for their fate."

"If you and the other women would befriend her, perhaps she wouldn't act in such a fashion."

"Hector, whether we are her friend or not is not the point. What feelings she has for Paris are only partly there," she said, exasperated by his stubborn clinging to this wrong belief. "Believe it or not, her true feelings of love are with that man out there. Can't you see that?"

"Andromache," he sighed, "You have no need to fear that I will leave you for Helen. Why must you be so spiteful?"

"Spiteful?" she gaped at him. Stepping back, she shook her head. "What are you implying?"

"I imply nothing. It's not that hard to see why she'd miss her home when every woman at Court has exiled her from a circle of friendship. Would it have been to much of a trial to include her into your games and activities?"

Lips pressed tightly together for a moment in order to reign in her temper, to prevent herself from lashing out in anger. Such an act would be unbecoming upon the city's walls. "I cannot believe that you would think that this warning stems from jealousy. The only reason I care to say anything is that one of us must actually think about the welfare of our son.

"Helen will betray us into the hands of the Achaeans, of that I have no doubt. It is merely a matter of time until the manner in which it will happen is revealed. What I cannot understand is your attitude. Instead of trying to make reparation to Menelaus about the insult done to him, instead of sending Helen back to him, you cling tightly to some belief that she and Paris have a legal right to be together – even though she brought no dowry with her. A slight against your father and the customs of marriage.

"Why must you be so blind and pigheaded about this? Why can't you just take my warning for what it is? Not everything I do relating to that woman has some ulterior motive," she ended, crossing her arms and taking another step away from him.

"Andromache!" he exclaimed, surprised. "How can you be so heartless?"

"Forget it," she snapped. "Obviously, though you do not share the same lustful feelings for her that your brothers do, you are under the same delusion that they are. Helen can do no wrong in your eyes, though she is partly responsible for those men being here. I pity you, Hector. I really do – and I fear that we are all lost because of your willful blindness."

Hector could only watch as she stormed away. Wondering just what happened to his docile wife who never had a sharp word for him. Turning his attention back to the camp, he wondered if she could be right. Was it entirely possible that Helen would just leave them to their fate? That she would attempt to leave the safety of Troy and face punishment at the hands of the Achaeans?

It hadn't escaped his notice that she had been acting…oddly lately. Everyone noticed the change in her.

Her observations on what they should be doing in the war were on the mark more often than not. She no longer seemed to pamper herself and wear fancy clothing, no longer complained about the lack of new jewelry or cosmetics. Some of the women had even mentioned that her embroidery was plain, suitable for every day wear and tear.

And she was hanging out with Cassandra.

Unlike Paris' wild assertions, he didn't think that she was affecting Helen. If anything, his _**sister**_ seemed to be the one who was being dragged along with whatever had gotten into Helen's mind. Was it really possible that she was taking matters into her own hands to end this conflict? That she could no longer stand letting them sit, trapped behind this wall in a siege that was going nowhere?

What did she think that she could accomplish that they could not?

After all, the gods had made a decree about the duel – and Menelaus was the rightful victor. Even he couldn't argue with the decision handed down by Agamemnon. While he couldn't understand why Lady Aphrodite had been allowed to pull Paris from the battlefield, they had struck a deal.

It was trut that they had not lived up to their bargain, though the Achaeans had yet to press that advantage and they clearly could. For this was an advantage they clearly had for the gods were on their side.

"You wanted to see me," Helenus' voice was quiet and he shielded his eyes against the glare of the sunlight.

"Deiphobus tells me that you've been mapping out our battles," he quietly said.

"It's more like I'm keeping track of them. But, yes, I have," he agreed.

"That there is something that troubles you," he went on.

"There is," he slowly said, approaching him and came to stand beside him. All he could think was what was Hector trying to find out? Had he done something wrong?

Hector faced him. Studied him, "Why have you not brought this to my attention?"

"I'm not trying to usurp you," he quickly said, hands held out in a silent appeal.

"That thought had not crossed his mind," he assured him. "I just do not understand how you could've kept the knowledge from me."

Helenus shrugged, almost wishing that he had not shown Deiphobus the map. Yes, he'd needed another's opinion but if this was the result, perhaps he should've kept it to himself. "You've often accused me of looking for plots and enemies that simply did not exist. I wished to spare us both that bother."

His expression tightened, this was not something he had been expecting to hear. And he didn't like it – though he knew it was the truth. "Well, bother me now."

"Yes, sir."

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_Author's Note : And I forgot to mention this in the earlier chapter when I used it. But figured I'd better clarify it before it really gets confusing. Watching Michael Woods' "__In Search of the Trojan War__", he made a reference to what is called the Milawata letter. This letter speaks of a city called Willusa – identified with Ilium or Ilios, what we call Troy. This is from the Hittite Archive. So, Hera calling it by that name is allowable. And yes, I realize that this makes me an über geek_.


	21. Let's End This War

_Author's Commentary : I'm not sure about this chapter but hope that it works. Thank you to all of my supporters and readers, you are all wonderful and have kept me inspired. I really hope that this doesn't disappoint._

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"Paris, I need you to do something useful for a change this afternoon."

Jumping back from his steady contemplation of Helen and Cassandra, he stared at Hector. "What?" he asked, ignoring his heart's pounding. The way his older brother was staring at him made him squirm uncomfortably. It was as if this was the first time Hector ever took full notice of him. That he was measuring him, comparing him to others, and found him lacking.

"Leave off this activity for the day and come with me," he ordered, not reiterating his statement. The scales had fallen from his eyes. No longer did he share in his parent's guilt over leaving Paris to die. It was quite obvious to him that Paris true allegiance was to himself. He wondered if the Lady Aphrodite realized that or if she regarded him with fondness still and would continue to protect him.

Following him, he suppressed a sigh. It wasn't exactly what he wanted to do with his day but he knew better than to argue with Hector. His older brother could pull rank – and often did. It was no secret that his brothers all disdained him. But Hector had always given him then benefit of the doubt. Had always been more inclined to give him a chance to explain himself to them.

It seemed that he had finally reached the end of his patience.

Plus, the way Helen looked over at him made him uncomfortable. In her eyes, there was no affection or warmth for him. There was barely any sign of toleration. All he could see was disappointment and a lack of respect, a sheer disdain for him. Unlike others in this town, he'd never seen that lack before and he wondered if that meant something. If it meant that she wanted him to do more than stand around, looking elegant and pretty.

It was quite possibly the most confusing thing he'd ever tried to interpret and he figured that something just had to be wrong with her. She couldn't just stop loving him over a few, insignificant little episodes between them. She was his promised love, Aphrodite had given her to him.

So, it had to be something else – something that everyone else just didn't see. Something new, something strange and foreign had come between them and then it hit him. The only thing it could possibly be. _**His dreadful sister and her deviant, wicked ways**_. That had to be what was wrong. Their whole relationship had fallen apart when that girl had returned to live in the Palace. He couldn't figure out just what it was but knew that it had to do with some influence Cassandra was exerting upon the other woman.

He knew better than to say anything though.

Who knew that Helen knew how to deliver a stinging tongue lashing? If ears could bleed, he was sure he'd need some care for it.

The two made their way down the hall to where Helenus and Deiphobus waited, the later with an impatient look upon his face. "Is he really needed?" the contempt in his voice was obvious.

Helenus just shrugged and walked into the room, unfolding his map at the desk.

"Yes," Hector sharply answered. "This war is partly his fault and it's about time he took responsibility for it."

The four stood around, looking down at the desk. Almost at once, Hector could see that there was a problem. As strange as it looked, the Achaeans had been playing with them, keeping them locked up. The marks, the positions…it was as if an elaborate game was being played and they were being manipulated with deadly ease. A chill ran down his spine for he realized that even with the two cleverest men among them, there was no way they could do this unaided.

Which meant that Lady Athena truly had turned her back upon them. Pinching his nose, he exhaled sharply. _How were they to pull any kind of victory from this if the most brilliant mind was against them_? "What do you think they're doing in there?"

"Where?" Paris asked. All he could see was the layout of the land beyond the walls and the surrounding lower town. There was nothing to spectacular there, a few shops. But as everyone had been evacuated behind the great walls, nothing was left for the Achaeans to take.

"The Temple," Deiphobus drawled, "This one." He tapped the spot. "Right here."

"I'm not that stupid," he crossly said. "I figured out which one by the lack of fighting and troops around it. But what does that have to do with us?"

"We have to find out what they're doing. Isn't that obvious?"

"Have none of you considered that they could be worshipping?" he asked.

The three brothers exchanged looks and then looked at him, watching as the light of comprehension dawned upon him. "Oh," his voice was quiet. "Even if that's all they're doing, they're getting the aid of the gods. So, what are we going to do?"

"You and I are going to create a distraction while Deiphobus goes to see what's going on," Hector explained. "And don't expect to back out of it, Paris. I don't want to hear it."

"What about me?" Helenus asked, trying to see the best route for Deiphobus to take. From his careful notations, he was pretty sure he could make it close under cover. But there would be more than a few steps without any protection at all. If what the Achaeans were doing was so important, there were sure to be more than a few traps and missteps lying in wait.

"I want you to stick close to the Temple – but out of sight. If Deiphobus needs help, you need to back him up."

"Why don't I investigate?"

Deiphobus looked over at him. This indolent brother who constantly paraded his new wealth and status about. This brother who didn't seem to understand – any longer – the concept of being grateful for what he had. At one time, such modesty had existed in Paris. This noted humbleness of character was one of the reasons Lord Zeus had chosen him to be the judge.

And that's where this other man emerged. It seemed that the lowly shepherd of before had been willingly sacrificed upon the alter of the goddesses' pride. Or perhaps it was his own for he'd had the honor of seeing that which so few ever had – the faces of three of the most high goddesses. In its place was this man who seemed to care only for himself – he didn't even seem to care about bringing honor to the goddess he'd chosen.

Pathetic.

With a straight face, he asked drolly, "You think you can sneak past the guards, defend yourself against any attack without revealing your location, and remember everything you see so that you can make an accurate report on what's there – not to mention give a good estimate about what they are planning?"

"How about I back you up?"

Hector glared at him. It was the first time the man with the eternal patience had ever done so. Seeing it, Paris subsided. But to make doubly sure he understood, he reiterated his words. "I said you and I will create a distraction. That is precisely what I meant, Paris. Stop trying to get out of it. You need to do more than hide behind everyone else for this war rests just as much upon your shoulders as it does the rest of us."

"What are we going to tell dad?"

"No more than we absolutely have to," he replied. There was a slight frown on his face. Something in Deiphobus' expression troubled Hector but he couldn't say what it was. Covertly, he studied the two others and noticed that they exchanged looks. It also hadn't escaped his notice that Helenus seemed to be avoiding his eyes.

Helenus' reasoning for doing so he could understand. With his all too often piercing, knowing looks, he made everyone uncomfortable when he looked directly at them. In his life, Hector didn't think he'd ever seen anyone other than Cassandra who could look at Helenus – or be looked at by Helenus – who didn't flinch away from him.

But it wasn't like Deiphobus to do the same thing.

Just what did the brothers know that they were keeping from him?

"So, are we going to fight?" Paris asked, interrupting Hector's thoughts.

"No," he shook his head. "I am not such a fool as to attempt such a thing again. We were lucky to gain the safety of our walls after Patroclus led his men with the skill and fury of Achilles. It was not something we were prepared for and we can't take the chance of allowing it to happen again. But we need to keep the Achaeans distracted, so that we can find out what they're doing."

"How about we finish the funerary games that were started a few days ago? This is the last day for observation of those rights and certain events have stopped them," Helenus suggested. Deeply conscious of Hector's confusion over the secrecy between him and Deiphobus.

To be honest, he still wasn't sure how they had become partners. One impulsive meeting to try to control the damage Paris was sure to unleash over his panic about Helen's disappearance had led to a few more – and him being included in on Helen's scheme. It was utterly beyond him how clueless about his wife Paris seemed, couldn't he see that she wasn't some wilting girl but a competent woman?

It was this other woman that he believed in. That he was willing to help them out for he knew how much was riding upon the success or failure of Helen's plan. A plan in which Cassandra played a vital, important role. The idea of letting his sister take the full brunt of the plan upon her shoulders didn't sit well with him. But he knew that it was the only way.

So he was willing to do whatever it took to assure that success.

Tilting his head, he gave it some thought. "There's only one problem – we were interrupted by the weather. If our men become rowdy, rude, it could happen again."

"What if we tell stories?" Paris suggested, half expecting to be turned down. "Under the cover of tents, we'd be safe from the elements should we be driven inside."

"And lose to Odysseus?" Deiphobus sneered.

But Hector gave the idea some consideration. "It is a worthy idea – and enough of a draw to keep Odysseus occupied. I have a feeling that whatever is happening at the Temple is his doing. Of them all, he's the one we want to keep out of the way."

"It doesn't have to be a competition," Helenus added.

"Then what's the point?"

"Outdoing each other with wild tales," Paris suggested. For a moment, his eyes took on a dreamy look, remembering something that the others couldn't see. His voice went soft with affection, with memory of happier moments. "Or we could have someone start another story and see what kind of directions it would take when picked up by another. Many a rainy day watching over the sheep was passed in such a manner."

Wind blew into the room and they looked about them, startled. There were no windows and the doors had been shut tight. "_A worthy idea. Mayhap we were wrong about you_," a voice said, "_Perhaps not. Still, you have nothing to lose or gain by following such a plan_."

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Helen entered the tent of Menelaus on silent feet, sandals in her hand, hoping that he was alone. Hoping that the information that Cassandra had given her was correct though since they had helped Diomedes with his task, she couldn't think that he would lie. Unlike the giggles and whispered conversations she could hear in the other tents, his was still.

Quiet.

It was this lack of sound that reinforced her trust that the goddess Hera was with her in this – not that she had doubted, not really she was forced to add.

The whisper of a snore attracted her attention to the left and she crept past the sleeping manservant to enter an area at the back that was partly sequestered from the rest of the tent. There, upon the rough bed, lightly covered in an old blanket, was Menelaus.

In sleep, he looked like a much younger man. The burden of the war was off his face, revealing the plains she'd often traced with her fingers. His dark, red hair curled about his broad face and her fingers twitched to run through the locks that were slowly but surely going grey.

Carefully, she sat upon the bed and hoped that he would react calmly when she woke him up. With gentle fingers, she traced the line of his cheek, feeling the rough texture of his stubble against her fingers. The feel of the bristly hair made her shiver and she wished that Paris wouldn't be so vain, that he would allow a little stubble to grow upon his still youthful face.

"Menelaus," she softly called, realizing that this was a man.

She'd been with a boy who was deluding himself all this time. In terms of age, Paris was no child. He was definitely an adult.

Yet, his actions revealed the selfishness of a child within him. He could not put the welfare of others before himself.

While he may have a form of love for her, he clung to her more because she'd been a promise to him. Not because he really loved her. And while she hated to disappoint Lady Aphrodite by rejecting the love she had offered her with Paris, she needed this man before her.

Perhaps she did love him but who could be sure? All she knew was that she missed him when he was not there and worried for him when he was fighting.

Worried more for him that she probably should.

"Menelaus," she called again, wanting to rest her head against his broad chest.

His eyelashes fluttered momentarily before opening. The dark orbs focused on her. First with an endearing look of bleary confusion before recognition dawned and he sat up. She flinched back, seeing the anger coming quickly to the forefront of his emotions. In them she could clearly read what he was thinking. The sight of his half-veiled wife – his pseudo wife? – in his quarters meant only one thing.

Betrayal.

"Who has betrayed my tent and allowed you in here?" he growled, moving away from her questing fingers. As he stared at her, his mind was rapidly moving through the names of those in the camp who might betray them. And while he wished to blame Achilles, he couldn't. Petulant and moody though he could be, he seemed to be strangely changing under the semi-tutelage of Heracles.

And to betray another, no matter the sting to his pride, was something he knew Achilles would consider to be beneath him.

"None, Menelaus," she replied, leaning forward to touch his cheek again. Missing the feeling of his skin beneath her own, resting her hand there. Pressing firmly one moment, caressing a moment later. "I have come here, of my own free will, to speak with you."

"I don't believe you," he flatly replied. His fingers grabbed hers and trapped her hand. There was no way he could think with her touching him.

"Am I not before you? Willing to disrobe and allow you to search me for weapons?" she asked, her voice a tease as she flexed her fingers experimentally underneath his. The rough texture of his hand over her own made her think of other places she wished to feel those hands again.

And she wondered if he could feel the difference in her own. The toughened strength that had come from the work she had been doing with Cassandra. "You are an experienced warrior, Menelaus. Do you hear your men being harmed? Any sounds of a surprise attack? I am here with only one other, the Lady Cassandra. She waits outside, standing guard for me and has come at great personal risk to herself."

"Move aside, woman," he ordered, reaching for his robe.

Intercepting the movement even as her eyes took in the new scars upon his body, the fading red one from the arrow that Pandarus had fired at him. The wound which had broken the truce between them once again. It looked ugly even though it was healed and she wanted to soothe it.

With effort, she shook off her thoughts. This was not the point – his leaving her so abruptly was. They were not finished and she would not be ignored. Menelaus needed to understand that he wasn't allowed to abandon her until they worked things through.

"What are you going to do?" her voice was apprehensive upon the question.

"Is that any real concern of yours?" he asked, looking back at her with haunted and hurt eyes. "From your behavior over the past few years, it seems that the relationship I thought united us in an honest partnership was nothing more than a cheap lie. A dream that I believed in and held true to. It seems that I am nothing to you."

"Don't be like this," she pleaded, stung by his coldness.

No matter what, Menelaus had never treated her thusly. While it was a relief to not be dead – or imprisoned, she hadn't expected this reaction. She didn't know why she hadn't thought of this possibility when thinking up all the probable outcomes.

Her actions had stung his pride, had wounded his sense of masculine self, and had been a betrayal of their surprisingly honest relationship.

"Like what?" he bitterly asked. "Hurt? Confused? Upset by your actions? Tell me, Helen, just how am I supposed to act and feel towards you? Because you obviously think that I am doing wrong."

She flinched, recognizing the bitterness for what it was. Recognizing in his questions the truth he really sought but was not quite ready to hear. A truth she didn't want to admit to him – or to herself. "You know the power the goddess Aphrodite holds over the hearts and minds of men. Of women. How can you think that I would be able to resist her touch?"

And then, because she could not lie to him any longer as she was slowly coming to realized the truth, she admitted, with a little shame. "I cannot deceive you again for it is not only upon her that I felt attraction for Paris. While she helped me fully follow after him, I allowed myself to dream of another life."

Menelaus sighed, trying not to look at her again for he could hear the truth in her words. So much time had passed since he'd seen her, yet it had not diminished the love and desire he felt for her. It was difficult to ignore her when he could smell her sweet perfume and feel the weight of her supple body against his naked body.

It had been so long since he'd been with a woman. He hadn't partaken of any of the hostages they took, though it certainly hadn't been because of any lack. They had been offered to him, continuously. Agamemnon complained that he wasn't much of a man if he couldn't take pleasure in a woman's body. Or even a man's but such insults meant nothing to Menelaus.

All he wanted was his wife – but she didn't want him.

Pushing away from the temptation she was, from the desires raging in his body, he threw on his robe, tying it about his waist quickly. There was another who needed protection at the moment. Clearing his throat, he forced himself to walk away from the temptation she was.

For the moment, he ignored her confession. Though touched that she was being honest, now was not the time. "It matters not what I think and feel. She cannot stay outside my tent. Someone is bound to recognize her and give her away."

Helen rose when he did, quickly moving to stand by his side. The very tension in his body spoke of his great need for her and his restraint against what he wanted. She knew that he'd often gone without, only ever having one mistress during their marriage for he'd felt it was disloyal to her. It had been a while since she'd been near anyone who put duty above desire for her – Hector hardly counted for he never wanted her.

And it made her want to see how far she could push his self-control before he took what he wanted from her.

It was so difficult to remember what it had been like before the passion of Paris swept her away. Whenever it was just her and Paris, he went right ahead and had his way with her. Regardless of what he needed to do with the army or his family. Regardless of her feelings upon the matter, he took what he wanted from her, ignoring the displeasure of Hector and the insults of the army – both armies.

Yet, here was Menelaus, quite desperately wanting to take her. Wanting her to return to his arms and bed. Even with this desire, he chose to save Cassandra.

Chose to ignore what he wanted to help another.

"Take me home, Menelaus. Let's end this war," she whispered.

He shook his head, negating her words. "It's too late for that, Helen. These men no longer care about why they are here. They want revenge for the dead. All they can think about is breaking through the wall and tearing the city apart. They've forgotten what is right and wrong, forgotten their honor. What they want is to exact a blood price from the Trojans, they want the bounty of the city beyond the walls."

"And you?" she asked, her hand resting on his arm before he could move aside the curtain. She turned him to face her, studying his face intently. It was perhaps the first time she'd even thought about what he felt and needed from her in a long time.

If she ever had, she winced as the thought wove its way insidiously through her mind.

It was no real secret that he hadn't thought himself a worthy suitor of her hand and had only done it out of familial duty. That he had sent Odysseus before him, possibly hoping that the wily one would be able to intrigue her for his brother would accept her choice. That he had only married her because she had chosen him out of all the suitors fighting for her hand.

His brother wanted their Kingdoms to be united – so, he had Menelaus court her. Through him, of course, for he didn't quite trust him to do it right. Luckily for her, she'd listened more to Odysseus' words about this man than the words of Agamemnon. There was something about her brother-in-law that she couldn't like.

Something in his manner that she distrusted.

"What is it that you want?"

Menelaus was quiet for so long that she thought he was not going to answer her. She thought that he would continue to look right through her, seeing nothing there but the bleakness, the hollowness of the war. "What I want has never been important, Helen. You of all people are aware of that."

The reply was a shock to her and she was silent, unable to think of anything to say to him. Her heart felt tight within her chest. This man had given up so much, had given her so much, and she had not treated him right. If there was any love within her, any at all, she knew that she had to make it up to him.

For he clearly loved her and wanted what was best for her.

Again, she thought of the one time he strayed from their marital bed and his apology. His promise to never do it again without her permission. With those words, he acknowledged her sovereignty over him. From the moment they married he'd acted contrary to the way he'd been raised. For in the Northern countries he had the right to do as he wished, regardless of her wishes.

Pushing aside the tent flap, he noticed Cassandra standing there, partly shadowed. A frightened look on her face as she heard the cloth move and she stared up at him. She looked so young, so vulnerable, standing there in the half light. Though covered by a dark robe, he clearly saw who she was.

And yet, he saw more.

In her vulnerable, frightened expression, he could see was his Hermione. Long red hair blowing in the wind as she stood on the city walls. Watching him with the mysterious dark eyes she'd inherited from her mother as he departed to retrieve Helen, never knowing if she'd see either of them again.

"Go to Heracles' tent. It's the third one on the left. He won't harm you," he gently ordered, holding out his signet ring. Misinterpreting her look as one of fear, it would not be the first time a woman had given him that look. And it still made him flinch back, wishing that things could be different for the women in this war.

If they were not allowed to fight, to defend themselves, they should not have to pay the heavy price that would be exacted at war's end. "Give him this and he'll know you came from me."

"I shouldn't," she started to say, returning it to him. There was something about this man that she instantly trusted and she could see why Helen had thought he would listen to her. The way he looked at her, not through her, made her feel as though it would be all right.

Even as the voice of prophecy in her mind mocked her belief.

He pressed the ring into her hand. "You need to go somewhere safe, Priestess Cassandra. Agamemnon has seen you and desires you. Should he find you here, alone, he will not care about the offense he is offering Lord Apollo as he did not care about the offense he offered to Lord Achilles.

"Go to Heracles," he repeated. "Of all men here, only he is able to adequately protect you."

Helen waved her on, recognizing the reason for the waver in the younger girl's eyes. The real reason and it touched her. _Perhaps they had become friends, of a sort_. She hoped that this was so for she had become rather fond of the other woman, something she had not thought possible. "I shall be fine. Please, you must be safe."

"But, Lady Helen…"

"I am safe with Menelaus," she softly said, reaching out momentarily to take her hand and squeeze it. "I need you to be as protected."

Cassandra studied her intently before she nodded to them. They watched her move across the camp, stumbling to avoid being seen by the sentries. If he needed any further proof that there was something divine going on that night, her ability to slip past the guards was it.

Heracles' tent flap moved and she disappeared inside.

A few seconds later, the hero himself emerged and looked at them, one eyebrow raised in question. Just beyond him, they saw her, wrapping her arms around her body. It was clear from their body expressions that neither were particularly comfortable with the situation. At Menelaus' nod, he shrugged and stepped back inside.

Reentering, he motioned for her to step back into the shadows. Once his manservant was gone and they were left alone, he sat down at the table. "What is it you want from me, Helen?" he asked tiredly. "What do you want me to say to you? I cannot continue to live this way. This war has taken so much from me already.

"And our people for they have faced the uncertainty of this war with us. While we are here, there is no one at home guarding them. We have made a great demand upon them by requesting that they send all able bodied men to help us. They have no one to observe the proper rituals for them.

"It is true that we have been blessed by the Great Lady Demeter. Our bountiful harvests are not lacking and I am grateful to her for that. But the people we serve need more than that. And it will not be long before the lack of our properly observing her feasts turns her away from us.

"And what of Hermione? Our daughter needs the both of us to be there for her. She is entering that difficult phase when she transitions from girl to woman and there is no one to show her how. No one to prepare her for that first step into womanhood when she goes through the purification ceremony of the goddess."

_And you would rather be here, with this false man who acted the part of the noble guest but was nothing more than a dishonorable thief_. Those words went unspoken but were clearly there between them.

Moving slowly, she knelt down at his feet. Pushing back her veil, she revealed her teary face. The small lines on her cheeks and the worry in her eyes. "Forget everyone else if they will not accept this miracle of the Lord Zeus and the Lady Hera. I would not be here if not for them.

"Please, take me home. You won the battle that day, though Paris left the field before the final blow could be struck and he was killed. What does it matter that it wasn't finished as it should've been? I accept your victory over him and return to you as wife.

"Should you even desire to kill me as the law of your brother decrees for an adulterous woman," she swallowed hard. "I will even accept that as just."

A deep sigh escaped him. This was hardly how he expected to be spending his night. Even his dreams – vibrant though they could be – had never been this fantastical. "Kill you? Helen, I could never do such a thing. When I became your husband, I gave myself over to your laws."

"Why?" she asked, confused.

"Because I was your consort, not your king and equal. I am well aware that the only reason I have any power is because you have willed it so. In choosing another spouse, you were following the laws of your land. The choice has always been yours to make for it is your duty to preserve and provide for your people. If you desired a male heir, then you had to go about procuring one," he paused. "But you did not go about it in the proper manner. Thus, this war and all these unnecessary deaths happened.

"Helen, rise and sit in a chair. This is unseemly."

"Unseemly?" she teased, her hands resting on his legs. Massaging them, she felt them and saw him tremble, hiding a smile. Shifting ever so slightly to rest between them, she glanced up at him through her lashes. Pushing herself up, she leaned against his belly.

"Am I making you uncomfortable?" she breathed out the words, watching his expression closely. For all of their times together, she didn't think she'd ever watched him. With him, she had enjoyed their couplings. But it had been with the pleasure of doing one's duty – not as a woman enjoying the passion of a man.

She wondered what it would be like to take him for pleasure and pleasure's sake alone.

His eyes dilated. The breath he expelled was merely a raspy sound before he regained his composure. _What madness is she inflicting upon me now_? Helen had been his wife and he'd been her helpmate, but they hadn't been involved in an actual love match.

At least, not upon her end. He'd fallen for her when he'd first seen her kindness to others. Many had fallen for her looks, but he'd wanted the real Helen – the woman she was on the inside. He couldn't deny that she was beautiful. Wasn't foolish enough to try, but he'd loved her intelligent mind first.

The way she thought had pulled him in first.

And he knew that he wasn't enough for her.

She'd never gone out of her way to seek him out. While he knew she appreciated him, that she took pleasure from what they did in the bedchamber, she'd never been so seductive towards him. "It isn't the time nor the place for this. There is much we have to work out, to discuss. Our work for the night is far from concluded."

"Only because you persist in being difficult. Isn't this a form of discussion, my husband?" she teasingly replied, rising to sit in his lap. Her hands played with his hair, idly tugging on the strands. Thinking about her experiences, about what she'd had found out about herself – and about human nature. If there was one regrettable thing she'd learned from this whole fiasco, it was that war and sex went together.

Deny it though some would, passion and desire was intrinsically a part of warfare.

And she'd almost become a master at manipulating those emotions to get what she wanted. All she had to do was push the right buttons with him – and he'd see things her way. The one person it had never worked on was Paris and that had been because he was a much better at playing the part of an emotional manipulator.

"One would think that you were not at all that happy to see me."

Her voice dropped lower as she breathed in his ear, "Or is it just possible that you've forgotten what a man is supposed to do when he is alone with a woman? Could it be that you no longer know what to do with a woman?"

Fingers trailed down his naked chest, "With a willing woman?"

Arms surrounded her and crushed her to him as he ravaged her lips. Hungry hands tugged and pulled her hair and stroked against her skin. First bruising, then soothing, and always, always _real_. Unplanned and unguided by a divine hand. A heady laugh escaped her as his teeth bit the skin of her neck, triumphant at his reaction. There was no elegance to his manner, no gentility.

There never had been.

It was rough and possessive, demanding of her.

Or rather, of him. For the first time in a long time, she called the shots and kept him following her lead. Pulling his hair hard, she pulled his face up and locked their mouths together. In seconds, she stole that control from him and dominated the kiss. She deepened it, swallowing up his groan of desire and ragged breathing.

This was all for her, not Aphrodite – it was all about Helen.

And it felt wonderful.

He jerked back, shaking his head as sanity tried its best to reassert control. "I should not have done that," he muttered, burying his face in her neck against his best counsel. Shuddering, trying to regain control over his raging emotions, he ignored the way her nails scratched his back.

Ignored the rush of pleasure at her mastery over him.

She always had been better at this than he was.

"Yes, you should've," her voice resounded in his ears, full of delighted laughter. "You should occasionally take what is clearly offered unto you with an earnest heart. I've come to you in submission, fully willing to surrender my body and my will to you. Time to claim your wife once more, husband.

"Repay the gods for their generosity in bringing me safely to your side."

"Helen," he sighed, looking up at her. The desire in her eyes was real. Her body rested against his, reaffirming her reality to him. But he knew that it wasn't as easy as she wanted it to be. There was so much more going on and he had to remember that.

Yet, it was hard when he could also see her point.

If the gods had not wanted her to come to him, she wouldn't be here. Without the presence of Hermes, she had come into their camp with only Cassandra at her side. Though they were at peace, they had not relaxed their sentries. Without divine interference, they should've been caught.

_**She**_ should've been caught and quickly dealt with. "It doesn't work that way."

She quirked an eyebrow at him, almost reading his mind. With sure touches, she stroked his face, played in his hair and left teasing kissing on his cheeks. Yes, she wasn't stupid enough to think that this would end the war. With all of the men out there, it was impossible to think that her returning to her husband would be enough.

But their part in the affair was over when he won her back. It was only the stubbornness of others that had allowed for the continuation of hostilities between them. The stubbornness and greed of Agamemnon for Troy's treasures kept this travesty going.

And she was tired of it.

Absolutely and completely tired of it. Therefore, she was not going to take it any longer. The war was over for her and for Menelaus. For their people. The sooner he realized it, the better it would be. She would have her way in this as she had in everything else.

And he was just going to have to get used to having a stubborn wife again. "Stop with the denial, Menelaus. It's getting rather tiresome."

"Tiresome or not, the gods have decreed that this war will not end so easily."

"The gods said that if you were victorious in the duel, I would return to you. Even the Lady Aphrodite bowed to the will of the council. You were," she reasonably pointed out what was only the truth, "I have."

"But…"

"Bed, Menelaus," she ordered him, covering his mouth firmly with her hand. Rising to her feet, she pulled him up and dragged him behind her. "We are going home tomorrow. Let the rest of the heroes do as they will. They always do no matter what they've been told. If they wish to remain in this massacre that masquerades as a war, that is to be their fate, not ours."

"We cannot do this with so many unresolved issues between us – and Paris." But he went with her, unresisting at last. If there was one thing he'd learned from being married to her, it was that sometimes he had to let her have her way with him.

And he couldn't deny the very reality of her hand in his, the heat of her kisses upon his lips. They felt bruised – owned in a way they hadn't before. Something had changed between them and he wasn't quite sure what it could possibly be. Yet, it was there all the same.

And the feel of the burn from her scratches reiterated the change between them.

"Paris is a fool who wants Aphrodite," Helen bitterly spat out, striping him of his robe before pushing him down on the bed. Dropping her dress to the side, she climbed over him, taking a moment to run a soothing finger along the ugly scar, giving it a tiny kiss. "I am merely a poor substitute for her. I know this for when I accused him of it, he didn't deny it."

Flipping them over, he gently traced her face. It was one of the few times he ever was gentle in his touches with her for they had always had a hunger for each other. A hunger that she knew was right, though she knew now that other ladies were taught was wrong.

She'd always enjoyed this pleasure, this intimacy with another being. There was something primal and wondrous about stripping bare and revealing all the scars to another's eyes – and finding that they just didn't care. Even with her training in the goddess worship, learning all the rituals that had been required of her, she'd never lost the wonder and joy of it.

Perhaps that was one of the things she'd inherited from her divine father. This ability to enjoy herself and return that pleasure to her partner in equal measure. It was the one place she'd felt truly accepted, though her time with Paris had diluted that somewhat because she'd never felt as if she was really what he wanted.

"Aphrodite is beauty incarnate, I cannot honestly deny that – nor do I want to.

"But you are Helen, Queen of Sparta," he continued, fanning out her hair and staring at her. His eyes adored her and her breath caught in her throat.

No one, not even Paris, had ever looked at her that way. Shivers ran down her spine in anticipation and in gratitude.

The truth he'd long kept hidden, he confidently revealed it. For there was something in her eyes that let him know that she was ready to accept it. "The woman I shouldn't love and cannot stop. Anyone who does not want you for you is a fool who does not deserve you. So, if it is home you wish to go to, then to home I shall take you."

"About time," she murmured, shivering at the feel of his hands on her naked skin. It was almost like their wedding night, when he'd been so uncertain with her. As was the custom of her people, she'd known the ways of the flesh and had to teach him what to do for she wasn't like his other women.

Every touch was new to her, to him.

This night, she knew, would be spent relearning each other's bodies. It was something she looked forward to for he had never shied away from her imperfections. He'd loved each and every one of them. And through him, she had learned to love them to.

For a moment only, she spared a thought for Cassandra. What was the priestess thinking and feeling, was she all right? Would Heracles take care of her as Menelaus promised? Would her dreams remain still this night giving her one night of peace? Would she remain where she was?

Cassandra had an ability to confound and confuse but she trusted the priestess to do right.

Yet when his lips touched the scar on her lower abdomen – the scar that had come from birthing Hermione – in a tender, leisurely kiss, she forgot her in the haze of bliss and heat enveloping her. His worship of her was far different from how Paris had loved her.

Again, the stark contrast between the two men in her life was revealed to her eyes. Paris had always avoided the signs of her imperfections. Menelaus embraced them.

The last thing she said, as she looked him in the eye, was, "I think it quite possible that I love you to."

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_Author's Note : I know it seems that Menelaus' reconciliation with Helen was too easy. But, if Homer is to be believed, it really was that simple. He went in with the intent to kill her. Ten years of anger ready to destroy the one who had caused it all. Upon seeing her beauty, he could not harm her. Could not kill her and would allow no one else to harm her, and he took her back home with him as his wife._

_In fact, most ancient writers have a similar reconciliation between the two, much to the dismay of the women of Troy who suffered at the hands of the Achaeans._

_I'd like to think that, had she the chance (and thought of it), it could have been this way – it would have been on her own terms._

_I like the fact that she accepted his victory against Paris (at least, that's the way it is in my story). A victory that was declared as valid, though it was not accepted outside of the Achaeans. My Helen is a capable woman, raised in the tradition of goddess worship – and, again, she is Spartan. Therefore, she is more confident in all arenas. As there is a tradition in which Menelaus actually leaves the Trojan War in the eighth (or so) year, finding her hidden away in Egypt, his leaving with her at this point is all right in my mind._

_And as weird as it may seem to us, it is true. In Greek thought, sex and war did go together. (This probably explains the long, long affair between Aphrodite and Ares that is found her and in Roman culture.) I found this out from the Bettany Hughes' book about Helen. There is another book by her about Helen called "__Helen of Troy: Goddess, Princess, Whore__" but my library does not have it, so I don't know if it's any good but it is the one most sites seem to refer to as written by her. The one I used is not usually there. It was published in 2005, two years before the one I use as my source of knowledge._


	22. Take Care of Her for Me

_Author's Note : Well, my schedule has sort of resolved itself - staring next week._

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Cassandra sat down gingerly in the tent, warily watching him. _What am I doing here_? The question circled about her mind restlessly. It wasn't as if she really had a choice if she wanted to make sure that Helen made it through the night and got back into Troy before Helios crossed the sky.

Of course, from the way Helen had been hanging on Menelaus' arm, that might not be what happened come dawn's light. It seemed that – in this as in everything else – Helen was getting her way. Deiphobus would be pleased if this endeavor truly ended the war.

But would it? That question nagged at her and ate away at her conscience.

"I'd offer you tea," he said with a slight yawn, sitting on his bunk. "But I don't believe I have any. Would you care for some ale?"

Though his look was sleepy, every sense was on full alert. He knew exactly who she was and had his own theory about why she was there. Behind Menelaus, he had seen Helen standing there, her arm hanging onto his in a proprietary manner. It didn't take the wisdom of an Odysseus to figure out what she wanted.

And that there was no one who could stand in her way and stop her from receiving it.

Shaking her head, she whispered, twisting her fingers nervously. "Though it is kind of you to do so, you don't need to worry over me, Lord Heracles. I shall be fine. Go back to sleep."

"Priestess, I know that my behavior has often spoken the exact opposite, but my mother raised me better than that," he sounded almost exasperated.

Seeing her flinch, he immediately softened his tone and words. "And I hardly think that my going to sleep is the best way to protect you from those who wish you harm should they find you here. Contrary to popular theory, my tent isn't unassailable. Lord Apollo will honestly protect you – unless it countermands the will of the Fates.

"All the gods must bend to their will," he reminded her.

"I know," she whispered. "Is this as awkward for you as it is for me?"

"Probably more so for me," he teased, leaning forward to rest his arms against his legs. There was something about this young woman who reminded him of his little girl. He could almost see Ophitus sitting before him, asking him questions. Demanding pertly, her blue eyes twinkling at him with just the right amount of love and humor, _just one more bedtime story, daddy and I'll go to bed. I promise_.

Ignoring the twisting of his heart as he thought of his family, swallowing back the tears, he asked. "What brought you out here, on this of all nights? It could not have been easy to sneak out."

Cassandra's eyes darted up and quickly down, registering the compassion in his. It wasn't something she expected in her enemy. There was something in them that reminded her vaguely of the way Hector looked at his son. It was this that gave her the courage to speak up. "You know that Lord Odysseus entered our city to speak with father…with King Priam tonight. That he was invited to find ways to end this conflict, though the storytelling earlier in the day revealed that we are not the only ones tired of this conflict and anxious to end it."

"I heard something of the kind, yes."

"He was to bring Lord Diomedes with him – father did not know that," she hesitated for a moment. Her fingers knotted themselves into her skirt, twisting it about before unhappily continuing her story. "Lady Helen and I met them at the main gates. She was covered in the robes of an Apollonian acolyte so that he would not know her.

"Lord Odysseus went with Deiphobus – we told him that Diomedes would join him later. I think he figured out that father didn't invite him at all, so he let him go with us without question. We took him to the Temple of Athena to see the Palladium. While Lady Helen showed it to him, I kept a look-out for any of the priests and priestesses who were at their evening meal. One returned unexpectedly. Diomedes and Helen hid from him successfully but…I am quite afraid that I shall not be welcomed to return to the city after what I had done."

Heracles nodded, encouraging her talk. When she was silent, he cleared his throat, "I knew that they were looking for the Palladium. That he had some plan to take it, I wasn't sure that he had worked out all the details."

"He had no plan. Odysseus and Diomedes both knew that there was no way to could get it past the priests. In order to do that, he would need the aid of one who is on the same level as they are. Not just in the hierarchy of the Temple system, but in the sight of the people," Cassandra admitted. "Using my authority as Lord Apollo's priestess, I removed it from Lady Athena's Temple."

Now he understood her apathetic fear about the danger she was in. It was no secret that Lord Apollo was against them while the Lady Athena was on the Achaeans side. She had used her authority to betray her god into enemy hands. "Whatever happens, Lady Cassandra, I am sure that he will understand what you've done."

_What did he know of the reality of Lord Apollo and his disappointment in her_? Gossip passed around meant that he knew of the broken vow. But it didn't cover what really happened that day. The emotions involved between them that had been hurt or torn or shredded beyond repair.

This, she knew, would be the end of any chance they had of repairing their relationship. "It would be better if I were dead," she quietly said.

Before he could answer in an attempt to comfort her, he heard foot steps. They were quiet, unhurried, - and definitely coming towards his tent. As there was no rhythm to the steps, he realized that this was no sentry passing by on his rounds and that they had best move fast.

Rising, he gestured for her to join him in the back. Gesturing towards a few boxes, "Hide back there. Whatever you do, don't move or make a sound. No matter what happens, remain motionless," he ordered, his voice both gentle and harsh. Frightened eyes met his as she crouched down, nodding her understanding.

As his tent flap opened, he was in position on the chair she'd vacated. Casually, he leaned back in his chair. In his hands was the bow he'd hurriedly grabbed. Nimble fingers repaired the fraying bowstring. No hitch in his breathing gave away the flurry of activity that had just taken place.

"Greetings, Heracles. I hope that I'm not interrupting."

Looking up, he nodded at Odysseus. "Not at all. Did you have a good night?" he asked, noting the tired lines on his face. The worry that colored his eyes, draining them of what little life that had remained. This war had to come to some kind of end and soon. Slowly and surely, it was killing them all.

"Tolerable," he sighed and looked about for a place to sit.

Upon seeing his dilemma, Heracles rose and moved to his bed. "Sit," he ordered, waving off his apologies. In truth, he preferred to be closer to Cassandra's location. There was less chance that she'd discovered if he was closer to her. "What happened?"

"Oh, nothing much. We just talked, reminisced. Had a few laughs. I complimented them on the stories that were shared. It was nice to hear stories I'd never heard before," he sighed again. "I just don't like the betraying of an old friend. And it still won't help us if we can't get Achilles back into the war. Any luck on that?"

Heracles stifled an irritated snort. This conversation was getting annoying to the point of making him want to do something he never had before – leave a task he agreed to do. Over the past few days, he'd talked with him but hadn't tried to sway him away from what he'd decided.

After all, it was hard to persuade someone to do something when you agreed with them in the first. "You're being rather ridiculous, Odysseus, even for you. While we have talked, I'm not close to him in the way that you wish I was. Achilles is unwilling to yield for any reason without a humbling upon the part of Agamemnon. I fear even that will not be enough to aid our cause.

"If anything, I think that he should leave and take his men with him. Should he do so, others will follow him. Many of the men stay, not because of greed, but because they hope Achilles will return to the battle and lead them to victory. You don't hear the men talk because they don't think of you as one of them. They doubt Agamemnon's leadership and his skill, his ability to help them defeat the Trojans.

"For that victory, they look to you and to Achilles. They know that he is touched by the god Zeus. And you are watched over and guided by Athena," he added.

Odysseus sighed. Somewhere inside, in a place he tried to ignore, he had felt that this might be the case. He hadn't wanted to hear it or admit to it. To do so was rather treasonous should Agamemnon hear of it. Not all of them were as protected as Heracles, even if they were watched over.

Slowly, he rose to his feet and made his way outside.

"Where are you going?"

"To pray to Great Queen Hera," he replied, pinching the bridge of his nose. He kept his back to him as he quietly admitted the truth, even though he knew that Heracles would understand. Of all people, the demigod knew what it was like to have everyone depend upon him to come up with an answer to solve their problem. "I can no longer think of what to do. All I want is to go home. My darling Penelope…her letters have been cheerful but I can sense that something is wrong. I fear for her, truly I do."

That was as far as his confession went.

He did not mention the vision he'd had months ago. The vision of a giant horse that had parted the gates before them. Unsure at first if it was supposed to be representative of Poseidon or if Athena was inspiring him to build this creation to help them end the stalemate. Not that Heracles would disapprove of using trickery but he hadn't mentioned the dream to Menelaus or even Agamemnon.

While he wasn't sure himself what to make of this vision, he'd gone straight to Epeius. First, he swore the man to secrecy for it couldn't get out what he was planning. Not even Agamemnon was privileged to know. While uncertain that he should, the man had given in to his demand in the end.

Only then had he revealed his plan. Only then had come the request for him to design and build what Odysseus had described. In the abandoned Temple, just at the outskirts of their camp, Epeius was hard at work. It was to be hoped that no one suspected anything for he'd chosen that spot because of its proximity to Heracles and no one could accuse him of being a strategist.

Still, he doubted the secrecy of his plan being assured – he well knew of Helenus' suspicious mind.

And his panicky manner.

One risked much when dealing with a city which possessed a true seer – and Troy had three. One who was doubted though her prophecies had proven to be true time and time again. He wondered if Cassandra saw the end of her city, her people. Her own fate.

And if she did, did she fear it as all mortals did?

"Are you sure that's wise?" He knew how apprehensive his tone sounded but he couldn't care about how that might be interpreted right now. If Odysseus was contemplating this, the situation was worse than he thought. And he hadn't thought things could possibly get any worse.

Of course, such thinking always led to things getting worse.

He really needed to remember that and wondered if it was some kind of hidden law that if you thought a situation couldn't get worse, it automatically meant that it would. If it wasn't, he had a feeling that it soon would be. There were just to many times that such thinking had always translated into things going downhill.

"We can no longer continue as we are," he said, looking back at him with aged and weary eyes.

For the first time either male could recall, the wily man was bowed in defeat. There was nothing left inside of him to give. No plot, no idea, absolutely nothing but a horse. "And quite honestly, I'm too tired to try any longer. I've exhausted every idea and possibility in my mind. I've set things in motion that I'm not sure are workable or even the product of a rational mind, for all that I hope that they are.

"No matter what, she _**is**_ the Great Queen of the gods. She is our ally. The source of all mankind, and we need her to aid us."

Cassandra waited for a few beats after he left before emerging from her hiding spot. "The Great Queen is not one who should be invoked lightly. I'm not sure he knows what he's doing," she timidly observed, slowly moving to sit beside Heracles.

"I think he's too tired and despondent to care any longer," he sighed, closing his eyes and pinching his nose. For a moment, he held a breath before expelling it loudly. "And I can't say that I disagree with him any longer. She **_is_** the only one strong enough to help us."

"Helen is trying to convince Lord Menelaus to speak with Agamemnon about ending the war," she tried to comfort him. "If that doesn't work, she wants him to take her home on the morrow. It is her belief that the war will end if she goes with him. The majority of the armies came because of their vow to him. If he goes, they have no need to be here."

Heracles shook his head. Despairing of the idea, good though it was in theory.

And he had a feeling that Helen knew the truth. She just didn't want to admit it to Cassandra. They both needed to have something to believe in and it was that this war would end so easily. "No," he refuted, knowing that he couldn't shield the other woman.

This was not his daughter. He had no real eason to shield her frm the truth. "The war is no longer about her. Helen is merely a shameful excuse. If she had even been the reason for most of these men to come to Troy. It is about the lives lost and the treasures waiting beyond those walls. And it is about Agamemnon's great and terrible pride."

"What of Lord Achilles? Has he no part in this?"

"What part he has, he has abdicated to others. As long as he remains hurt and resentful, the toll of lives will continue to rise. I cannot see an end to what is an intolerable situation." He paused and looked up at the tent roof, shoulders hunched. "I'm old, Cassandra. And so very tired of this war."

"You aren't alone," she replied, resting her head in her hands. "I'm so tired of bearing the burden of visions that no one believes, that no one will ever believe."

"Get some rest, Lady Cassandra. I'll be outside, making sure that no one is near."

She looked up at him. "Are you going to try to talk to Lord Achilles again?"

Shaking his head, "It's pointless."

"The prophecies all say that the war will not end without certain events happening – one of them is the death of both Hector and Lord Achilles."

"Prophecies can be misread, Cassandra. Some of them are certain, but others…"

Titling her head, she considered his words. "I suppose that you could be right. But he is a definite factor in who wins or loses this war."

"What if the war ends in a draw?" he quietly asked.

Her head tilted to the side, thinking about his question. "It all depends upon one thing, Lord Heracles."

"And that would be?"

"Saving the life of a child who is important to Great Queen Hera. A child who was harmed but not in battle. No, he was maliciously and deliberately harmed by my people," she replied.

Heracles tensed, "What do you mean?"

Outside, Achilles paused, hearing that sweet voice he'd only heard once before. A vision flashed before his eyes of brown hair and laughing, yet studious eyes. It was a voice that could easily make him forget his anger and upset over losing Briesis to Agamemnon – the beauteous Cassandra.

The beauteous, _**untouchable**_ Princess and Priestess Cassandra, he corrected himself sharply – another woman he wanted that Agamemnon would have given half the chance.

_What was she doing here? In Heracles' tent of all places_?

"I had a dream, a vision…I'm not sure what to call it," she stopped and took a deep breath. This was the hard part, forcing these words out. So many words, prophetic and of deep intuition, had passed from her lips.

All of them mocked and disbelieved.

Heracles waited patiently.

Finally, she continued, "But in it, Queen Hera was so angered by what happened to the child, by the pain this child was experiencing without end, she ordered the eradication of the entire Trojan race. She wanted not even a remnant to remain behind. I got the feeling that even Lord Aeneas, with his prophesied destiny, was not safe from her wrathful curse," her voice went low forcing Achilles to straing his hearing to catch her words through the canvas.

Heracles expelled a breath, believing her. It was hard not to. Not only because he could hear the certainty in her voice but it was about Hera. Hera and those she cared about. Knowing who the goddess was, it was cleard what she would do. She would strike out in such a destructive manner without even pausing to consider what she was doing.

Who she may be hurting in her hurt.

Anyone with even a rudimentary understanding of her character knew that she felt things deeply. And reacted accordingly. "I know this child you speak of."

"Really?" she asked, half shocked that he believed her. It had been so long since anyone besides Helenus had done so, she wasn't quite sure what to make of it. Was he mocking her? Or did he truly believe what she said? Shifting to the side, she looked up into his eyes and saw his only sincerity and pain.

Achilles could hear her shift and the rasp of clothing rubbing against cloth, stifling his jealousy with effort. He knew Heracles wouldn't lay a hand on her – not after what happened to him before at the hands of Lord Apollo for a rather minor offense done against his Pythias. There was no way that he would be so impulsively foolish as to anger the god again.

It still didn't help neutralize his jealous feelings.

While he knew that many thought that Polyxena had captured his attention – for he couldn't deny that she had been lovely - it was not so. All of Priam's daughters were beautiful in their own ways. But Cassandra…Cassandra was different for her beauty was ordinary in an extra way. She had feared him, he could tell.

And yet, she had dared to look him in the eyes and speak the truth to him.

He could admire her for that courage for not many would do so – not even Patroclus had found the courage to do so.

"Yes," his voice was almost absent. "Lady Cassandra, I need you to do something for me that won't make any sense but it needs to be done. I need you to remain here, hidden away. No matter what you hear, unless it is me telling you to run, you need to stay put. Do you understand me?"

"But why?" the confusion was obvious in her voice.

Achilles could hardly blame her the confusion. It was obvious she knew why she'd been sent to his tent. Placing her under the protection of the hero was something a wise leader would've done, which meant that Menelaus knew she was here.

Menelaus and not Agamemnon for that fool wouldn't care about doing right by Cassandra.

In truth, Achilles felt torn himself. He was a man who enjoyed women but he also understood acting with honor towards them. That was one thing his mother had drilled into his head – and he wondered suddenly if it was because of how she'd been treated by Lord Poseidon and Lord Zeus. If he had the woman in his custody, he wouldn't leave her alone.

Not just because he'd want to taste every inch of her body, teaching her to know and understand the joys of the flesh.

But because this was an enemy camp, he was supposed to protect her.

"It's something that I can't explain to you," there was honest regret in his voice. "Just know that what I am doing is what is necessary for the safety of all involved."

"Does this have to do with Lord Achilles?" she quietly asked.

Heracles gave a mirthless laugh. "Oh, I wish it was that easy."

"Is there anyway I can help you?"

"Yes," he softly replied. "You can stay safe. The last thing we need is for Apollo to turn against us again. We have suffered enough losses at his hands. Should anything happen to you, I am sure that he would – and no soft words or sacrifices will appease him."

Cassandra wrapped her arms about herself, "I wish I could be that assured."

"Take it from me," Heracles paused, tilting her chin to meet his eyes. Again, he was sharply reminded of Ophitus for her eyes were full of trust. True, it was shadowed by her sadness but it was there all the same. "He will defend you, no matter what you've done. Apollo knows the truth of your heart when it comes to your people."

_Listen to him, my Cassandra. Whatever else he is, Heracles understands me. I may not approve of what you have done in my name but I understand your motives. I understand why you felt you had to do what you have done this night. When this is over, we shall talk_.

"I'll be all right," she whispered, warmth filling her. She hadn't felt that touch in so long, she was almost afraid to accept the gift that knew it was. Yet, it seemed to not matter to her heart one bit. Her soul drank it up hungrily, feeling the compassion of the Lord Apollo fill her up once again. "Thank you, Lord Heracles."

A few moments later, Heracles exited the tent.

Glancing in after waiting a several more minutes to make sure he was truly alone, Achilles stepped in and shut the flap behind him firmly, seeing Cassandra sleeping in the back. Upon the rough hewn bed, with her arms curled up around her legs, her robe tightly wound about her body, she looked so small and defenseless as she slept, unaware of her visitor.

Had he not known she was in there, he wouldn't have seen her.

With careful steps, he walked over to the bed. Dark lashes fluttered restlessly on her cheeks as he gently covered her with the bed sheet. Though thinner than he remembered her being, with dark circles under her eyes, she was still beautiful. It was no wonder that she had suitors for her hand, no matter what rumor said of her being mad.

No matter her being a sworn virgin to the Lord Apollo.

He didn't believe the accusation of maddness. Having looked into her lucid eyes, he could see that she was the sanest one of them all. And her clear sighted sanity discomfited others so much, they preferred to believe her insane than contemplate that she could be speaking the truth.

Gently, he stroked her cheek, hoping that the touch would soothe her. Kneeling down, he watched her sleep for a few minutes, relieved to see that her breathing had settled and that her eyes didn't seem quite so restless. He hoped that she would remain so for the rest of the night.

Stepping away from temptation, he dropped the curtain to cover the back section of the tent, adding protection to her hiding place. He couldn't believe that Heracles hadn't thought to do so himself. But after what he heard, he supposed the other man had other things on his mind.

His own mind was a whirl with thoughts.

Who was this mortal child that Queen Hera was so interested in?

So far, she seemed to favor none of the great warriors. Not one of the great leaders who fought in this war could say they had her patronage. Not even their lowliest warrior could speak of that personal, direct aid. Her touch upon them only came when they prayed to her, asking for her help and guidance.

In all recorded vocal history, Queen Hera had never really paid any mind to heroes and their companions. The only exception was Jason and he was not here. Yet, if he had been, why would the Trojans kill him? To do so would be to anger her, set her against them with the fury of a raging storm.

The very thing they should be trying to avoid. What would make more sense is for them to do something that would cause her to ally with them instead of against them. For them to do that, they would have to attack one who had in some way offended the great queen. They would have to get rid of one she could not actually touch without painful reprisals against her.

The only one here who could possibly mean anything to Queen Hera would be…Heracles.

But if he was the one, surely she wouldn't be angered enough to want Troy destroyed? True, he'd spent years in her service. In which he'd been doing tasks that should've killed him. The fact that they hadn't had more to do with his companions and the skills he was born with.

Simple luck wasn't enough of an answer to explain what kept him alive against everything she threw at him.

Unless…his mind nearly stumbled and stuttered as a thought came to mind. Unless, she wasn't actually trying to kill him. His head shook, trying to rid it of such a strange idea. Such a concept defied what he knew of her. She wasn't the kind to forgive an insult against her. While Heracles' existence was hardly his fault, the fact remained that he _**did**_ exist – and was given a name that honored her.

Amber eyes widened as an impossible thought filled his mind.

Was it entirely possible that Heracles was _**Hera's**_ son?

That, far from being angered over his birth as everyone said, all that she had done was to prepare him for the burden of the life he would have to live? As the son of a goddess – as the son of a god - his destiny would be to do great things.

This he knew for his own destiny had been determined by the mother he had. True, his mother was a nymph but she still had divine blood in her that she'd passed to him. Prophesied to be greater than his father, he had still been given a choice of what path he wished his life to take.

Yet, it had really been no choice at all.

He had to prove himself worthy of that birthright and lineage. Any demigod knew of this burden, this choice because of their parentage. And while he really wasn't a demigod, his burden was the same. These choices were placed before him and he had to make them based on what he knew – and what he felt. To do otherwise would be to turn his back on his great destiny. If he had chosen to turn away from this path, he truly believed that he would've shamed his family.

On shaky legs, he finally made his way out of the tent.

He had to find Heracles. To find out from him if what he thought he knew could possibly be the truth. It made no sense to a mind that only saw Hera as an extension of Zeus. An independent goddess with her own position and authority to see her will done, perhaps, but the loyal consort of the King of the gods.

Contrarily though, it was the only thing that made sense in light of the words Cassandra spoke.

Then he stopped, realizing something. Just how was he supposed to explain why he'd been in the area? It wasn't as if his camp was near King Menelaus'. After the great rift, he'd moved his men closer to the sea. Therefore, he had no real reason to be in this location – other than that he'd given a lot of thought to the words they had exchanged such a short time ago though now they seemed eons ago.

The words had disconcerted him, the very dare of them, had forced him to look beyond his perception of his hurts and to see what was really happening. To realize that he was a deciding factor in this war and that he could help stop the killing if he would just take that step forward or backward.

It was an unnerving sensation to feel as if that torch of protecting humanity against random cruelty and malice had passed from Heracles to him.

So, what was he supposed to say? _Hey, Heracles, I just happened to be walking outside your tent and overheard you talking to Priestess Cassandra. Wondering just what she was doing here, I stopped and listened in on your private conversation with her. Is it true that you are Hera's child and not Zeus'_?

Well, that would go over well.

_Thank you for not betraying Cassandra, Achilles._

A voice reverberated within his mind, one he'd only heard once.

Once, but had never forgotten.

One could never forget a voice as pure as air.

_And a double thank you for protecting her from exposure should anyone casually glance in. I realize that it could not be easy for you to remain quiet and not give her presence away by demanding answers from them. For that consideration and reverence towards me, I thank you_.

"Lord Apollo," he murmured. Automatically, he dropped to his knee as the god appeared before him.

There were only a few gods and goddesses he would bow to – Lord Apollo was one of them. Though it was perhaps unwise of him, he feared very few of them. Over his shoulder was his famed golden bow and he shivered at the sight, knowing how easily it could be used against him should the god so desire to unleash it.

"And what you think you know is something that cannot be spoken of to anyone – including your mother. Especially your mother_,_" he warned him. "The divine couple will not be pleased should it become gossip."

"I would imagine not," he replied through a strangled throat. It was difficult to keep the fear out of his voice but he somehow managed it. While he knew the Lord Apollo would be aware of its presence, it helped him to feel that much braver in his presence.

It gave him the illusion that he could handle this. "There is no reason for me to speak of it, so I shall not. What of the fate of the Lady Cassandra?"

Apollo tilted his head, considering him. "You care for her."

It was not a question.

Nor was it an accusation.

There was a gentle curiosity to it that seemed to speak of an understanding and yet a wonder as to how he could care about a woman he'd only seen. A woman he'd never really exchanged a word with for once she had spoken to him, she had left him standing in the hall, mouth agape in wonder at her temerity and daring.

Achilles was unsure of how to respond.

He hadn't actually meant to give himself away – especially not to the god she had given her life to. Keeping a wary eye on the bow, he stumbled to find words safe enough to speak. And knew he would find none to speak that would be good enough. Safe enough. "She is…unique among women, most gracious lord. Shy and yet, courageous enough to face the entire Achaean army harming her in an attempt to end this war.

"But I understand that she is your servant and priestess. Knowing this, I would do everything I could to protect her from harm," he finished, hoping that his words would be accepted. Would be believed for he meant them.

"As she does not know the truth about the child, there will be no retribution done to her. But her fate at the hands of Agamemnon is almost assured. I have given her up for the fates have decreed that I do so. No longer will she have a place in my life in which I can protect her directly. Yet, they have not said the manner in which I am to do so."

"Lord Apollo?" he asked into the silence, wondering at his daring. "What has this to do with me?"

Shaking off whatever had gripped him, Apollo looked him straight in the eye. "I would rather have her safe, then enslaved, Achilles. If she chooses to go with you, I will do my best to aid you when you leave – but leave you must if you take her."

"I would thank you for the gift but you know as I do that she would remain in your service. To become a wife and mother is not what she wishes," he replied, once again stunned at the way this night was going. "And I do not desire to force her to go with me. I may cut down my enemies when I fight them – but I am not Agamemnon. I will not be unfair to those who have fallen into my care.

"I didn't do it with Briesis. I would _**never**_ do it with Priestess Cassandra."

There was a long pause as he stared at him, seeming to read into his very soul. Finally, he smiled. Though it was very tight and small, unlike the glow he was capable of. "Keep her safe for me, Achilles."

Somehow, Achilles knew that Lord Apollo had already decided that Cassandra was to be his to protect and to care for for as long as she would let him. A shiver ran down his back at the trust that was placed in him. It was no secret from him how the god felt about his priestess. His mother had told him in confidence that she felt Cassandra had come the closest to being a true love to Apollo.

At least, of this lifetime.

"What of the war?" he asked, knowing of his mother's fear for his life. Should he accept this offer, she wouldn't have anything to fear from his mortal enemies. It would be a slight mark against him but he was hardly concerned with that. He'd fought so many battles and won them all, his reputation as a warrior without peer was secure.

Of course, if he failed in his task, he would have the god to contend with. Not just any god either, but Lord Apollo of the golden bow. The risk of death or dishonor by his hands was far worse than being dishonored by a mortal man. And it could be that he would also incur the wrath of Lady Artemis for bringing pain to her brother.

Another goddess he wasn't foolish enough to mock.

"That is entirely up to you," he replied, disappearing into the tent.

For a moment, he debated his next move before shrugging and leaving. What the god had to say to Cassandra was none of his business. He wasn't entirely sure even after what Lord Apollo said that she was his business. When he'd first met her, she seemed to be a young woman who knew her mind.

But he also wasn't the kind to reject whatever gifts the gods handed him. They rarely handed what they considered their own out, so when they did, he knew that it should be accepted with open arms. And with honest gratitude. For whatever reason, he was given charge of her.

If Lord Apollo told him to take care of her, then that is precisely what he would do.

The question remained, how?

Could he cut a deal with Agamemnon and trust the man to keep his word? It wasn't as if he'd given him any real reason to do so. After his behavior, the High King was hardly the kind to inspire his loyalty. Yes, he realized that he was being petulant – a fact that Patroclus was fond of gently pointing out – but his rightful prize had been stolen away from him.

Such an insult was not easily ignored.

Perhaps he should do as he'd been threatening to from the start of their disagreement and stop acting like a spoiled child. Should he just pack up his men, take the Lady Cassandra, and leave? Was that the better course of action to take here? His men were his own and wouldn't challenge his decision.

Well, Patroclus would but that was because he was a generous soul who had a rare nobility in this age. He wished to help and wanted nothing in return. Of course, he seemed to be changing before his eyes after his victory in chasing the Trojans away from their fleet. That was something that he'd have to do fix.

The thought of his best and truest companion sacrificing himself in this pointless war was unpalatable to him.

But he'd have to think about how to do that later. Right now, he needed to concentrate on Cassandra and what he was supposed to do. How he was supposed to gracefully extricate them both from this situation. His only options seemed risky, chancy at best.

And then a thought occurred to him, a rather daring one at that.

Could there possibly be a third option in this?

Studying the wall, he pondered the possibility of cutting a deal with Hector. Having observed the man, watched him with his wife and child, he knew that Hector had a lot to live for. A lot to gain should Achilles leave the field of battle for Ajax could never defeat him.

That had been clearly shown on the field of battle when the two had fought all day. In the end, it had been a draw. Honorably they had exchanged gifts and gone their separate ways.

Surely the two of them could come to _some_ agreement that would benefit the both of them. He'd leave as long as they let him take her with him, fearing no reprisals. Was that the way for him to go? Under the circumstances, he wished that he could speak to his mother.

But that was not an open option for to do so required that he speak something of Heracles. He couldn't even talk to Patroclus for he was sure to question his change of heart and mind. Question why he was determined to leave when before he'd wanted to stay and gloat over how the armies were struggling without him and his men.

And he'd have to explain how he came into possession of Cassandra.

This was one of the reasons he'd stink as a king. He hated all the nitty, gritty of the day to day grind. With a sigh, he went to his camp.

There really was nothing more he could do here.

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_Author's Note : And Achilles just had to join the ranks of the characters I was not expecting to gain a personality and free will, nor grab a piece of the plot line. Like he doesn't get enough of it in the actual cannon of the War as written by many ancient – and not so ancient – authors._

_Attention whore._

_Anyway, the whole subplot with him and Cassandra was inspired by one scene in "__The Firebird__" – I told you it would appear again. It's been a while since I read it, so I could be wrong about who he was interested in, though I know there was some attempt to make an alliance with him._

_As for her surviving, I took that from a tablet in an Archaeological Museum in Athens, dedicated to Zeus by her descendants. This was found in the postscript from said book._

_But I'm still not sure where the whole Achilles saving Cassandra came from. Characters! What are you going to do when they act up? Write them, I guess. Ophitus really is one of Heracles' children. She was the daughter of his first wife who doesn't actually exist in my cannon_.


	23. How Could You Not Avenge Mother?

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Apollo knelt down, gently stroking her face, almost erasing the touch already there. Very faint upon her skin, he could see the tender caress that Achilles had employed in an attempt to comfort her. A successful attempt the god admitted and was almost sure that he had made the right decision.

But almost was not enough for him, not after the damage that had come upon her because of his actions.

Thus, he had to be entirely sure that this man would do right by Cassandra. To make restitution for what happened to her, he wanted her to be protected. To have a better life. And from what he'd seen and felt, he was mostly reassured. But he knew that it would take years of careful watch and study to rest easy over her.

Still, of all the available warriors, Achilles was the most capable of protecting her.

It also seemed as though he had some genuine emotion for her. He wasn't sure how he felt about that – but he cared enough for her to want her to be happy. When he saw how peaceful she looked, resting as if she hadn't a care in the world for she knew she was safe merely because she'd heard his voice, he always wanted her to look this way.

And knew that it wasn't possible. That such a belief would prove untrue – he was about to disrupt her life even further.

For a good purpose, yes, but it was still a disruption.

"Cassandra," he whispered. "Rest well, my priestess, for in the morning a new path will open before you." Part of him hoped that she would wake up. He wanted to tell her what was going on, not have Achilles do so. She'd take it with more composure if he did so, feeling that he was not abandoning her to her fate again.

"Lord Apollo?" she whispered, opening her eyes. "Is it later?" the second question sounded almost as disbelieving as his name had.

"Not quite," he replied, his hand rested on the juncture of neck and shoulder. "In the morning, Achilles will come and ask Heracles if he can see you. Listen to what he has to say for I have talked to him already. I have given him permission to take you away from all of this."

As she sat up, his hand fell to the side. Brushing her hair out of her eyes, she watched him warily. Something in his eyes reminded her of what they once had. The trusting friendship she had missed so much. Often, in the past – and even after they had abandoned each other – she'd taken comfort in his remembered counsel.

Hesitantly, her words came out, afraid that he would think she was defying him again.

Yet, she could not be quiet. "Lord Apollo, while I am honored at your consideration, Lord Achilles is…well, I have seen him. I have spoken to him. As much as I don't wish to admit it, he frightens me. Why would you talk to him about me?"

"Menelaus and Helen are leaving – I believe that Achilles plans to do the same. Your presence would assure that he does so, though I do not want you to feel as though you must leave with him. It is your choice alone. I will not force you to do something that you truly find repugnant. But I don't want you to become a slave to Agamemnon. Nor do I wish you to be anywhere around him as you would be should you depart with Helen," he paused, his hand rising to brush against her cheek in comfort.

The other part of her fate, he didn't wish to mention to her. As strong as he knew her to be, he didn't want what he knew to trouble her. He wished to have her mind free of painful visions of her probable future. No words of the rape she might yet experience, nor her violent and unjust death at the hands of Clytemnestra – a woman who had no grudge against her and yet, had killed her – would pass his lips.

"I thought it was Polyxena he cared for," she softly said, knowing that there was something more he was keeping from her. And, while a part of her resented this secrecy of his, she was grateful for it as well. For she had a feeling that she didn't want to know what it was.

Her mind swirled with enough terror. "Why is he willing to help me?"

"A question you must ask him yourself if you agree to leave with him on the morrow," he replied, not at all upset at the interruption. It was something that he hadn't thought of himself though he'd seen the interest in the warrior's eyes as he looked at the youngest daughter of Hecuba.

But when he was speaking to him, it had not seemed important.

What he cared about was Cassandra and doing his best to make sure that she was safe. Polyxena was another's concern, not his. Maybe he still loved his beautiful priestess, but he knew that the time for them had long since passed and he was wise enough to know that it would be unwise to pursue it. And while he regretted it, he knew that some things just weren't meant to be.

"He has told me that he will not force you to do something that you do not wish. In this as in all that he does, I believe he is being sincere. If you should desire to remain a virgin Priestess, he will let you go."

"But my family," she protested, trying to come up with excuses as a way to not deal with this. To not deal with a life, a fate that she had never dreamed would be open before her. To not have to deal with Achilles she forced herself to admit. There was just something about him that…disconcerted her. "I could hardly leave them to this mockery of a war, to the destruction that I know is coming.

"And my visions hardly give me the best chance of starting life anew," her words were glum. This gift that she had been granted was hardly conducive towards a happy future. "The gloom I see will hardly make me welcome in any town, happy though they may start off to have me there. I could hardly live the life of a vagabond – and it wouldn't be fair to bring him along with me should he decide that his path should always reside beside mine."

"Do you trust me?"

Cassandra could tell from the way he asked the question that he didn't want an easy, convenient answer. His gaze was clear, focused on her, reinforcing that feeling within. A simple, quick answer that assuaged his feelings, that pleased his ego…No, that was not what he was looking for from her. There was no way he was going to accept a few glib words for her reply.

He wanted the truth.

And that was difficult for what was that truth?

Was there any legitimacy in her feelings about him as her protector? Her god? Was there anyway to see and feel beyond what had gone between them before and realize the truth? He had left her to suffer, it was true – but she'd been partly responsible for it. If she had just reached out sooner, had talked to him before, so much between them could have been changed.

It was something she should think deeply about, think long and hard as she searched her heart and soul for the answer.

And yet, it was something she didn't have to think about at all.

No matter what, this was Lord Apollo. Her one god and protector. The god she'd always turned to in her youth for comfort and wisdom. The one she saved herself for in spite of pressure to be a princess and wife, to not be his priestess. A pressure that had increased the longer the war had dragged on and their need for allies had increased.

To him she was drawn and loyal.

In the ultimate end, that was all the answer she needed.

"In spite of what transpired between us, I do trust you," she stared him right in the eyes. "I have never known you to not keep your word or support your followers. And though I have not kept my end of the deal, you are fulfilling your part of the deal by taking care of Lord Achilles. True, this is not precisely how either of us envisioned such a thing happening – but I think there has been enough death."

"Then trust that I have your best interests in mind. Everything will work out in the end, Cassandra. You just need to take a leap of faith. To trust that there will always be a way through the fear," he told her. His eyes watched her expression, memorizing the way she looked in the dim light that came in through the cracks in the tent and the small window that was almost hidden away.

After taking several deep breaths, she finally nodded. What he was asking of her was a forward motion. To step away from the safe and secure into the unknown. To move forward in a show of her faith and belief in him and his plan for her future. What he wanted was her to take action, not to keep reacting to her situation.

He wanted her to make a commitment and trust that he would handle the rest.

That was nothing to her for she'd always done so.

"I trust you, Lord Apollo," her words were soft, as if she recognized his need to hear them again. There were just times when you didn't question a person's need to hear the words – even if that person was a god. "If this is the path that you wish me to walk, then I shall and know that you have me ever in your sight."

Apollo rose, leaned forward and kissed her forehead. "All will be well if you remember to honor the gods. I did love you, Cassandra," he whispered and left her before she could reply, not sure if he could handle hearing her say the words to him.

Or to tell him that she had only loved him as her patron god.

Raising a hand to her head, she felt the residual warmth spread through her. _Though you fear my answer, my lord, there is no need. I have loved you as a servant, as a friend, and as a woman. I hope that you will bless me should I find another to love as I once loved you. I could never be really happy knowing that you were displeased with me again for I am glad to have my truest friend back in my life once more_.

Leaning back, she closed her eyes once more. For better or worse, she knew that she would leave with Achilles when he spoke to her. There really was no other choice for her. Not only because of what Lord Apollo had implied, but because she felt it was the best decision she could make.

Even if she feared the Achaean warrior, she trusted him to keep his word.

Dropping her arm, she rolled over and hugged herself, trying to forget her fear of the warrior. As beautiful in looks as he was, his battle skills were even greater. She just wished she knew what to make of him for he was unlike any of the Achaeans. Who else would make a promise to let her go after ten years of lusting after the treasures of Troy?

A treasure that she would be the physical embodiment of?

Another fear took precedence – and she wasn't sure it was any better.

Could she actually leave the service of the Lord Apollo? Would she be able to do it and live with herself? He was all she had ever known, ever wanted to know. From the first time she'd felt his touch, had heard his voice, he had been her whole existence.

Now, her life was to start anew. In another place, across the sea, she was to live again. Live among a people who had a culture and lifestyle that was different from her own. The only thing they had in common was their gods and yet, even the way they worshipped was different.

Could she exchange one life for another and _not_ be a Priestess of Apollo?

That was something she did not know but supposed she would have to find out.

654321

Heracles went as far away from the camp as he dared. Only pausing once to make sure Iolaus knew that there was someone in his quarters that he wanted watched, he snuck away. He knew that he shouldn't stray so far away from his tent but this was the one spot he knew of where he wouldn't be overheard.

And he knew Iolaus wouldn't let him down.

"Mother," he softly called.

"_Heracles_?" her voice came to him, confused. Fear filled her and almost made her careless in her actions. _Why was he calling her? Had something happened to him_? It was a kind of unspoken agreement between them that – unless the need was truly great – he would not call upon her. That had been more for his peace of mind than her own.

She wouldn't have minded being with him. Fighting beside him. But he wished to keep the secret for as long as they possibly could and she had to respect that. In moments, she was near him, her eyes studying him intently. He didn't look injured or sick.

"Is everything all right?" the question came on an expelled breath of relief.

"What did you tell Odysseus?"

"Is that what troubles you?" she asked, tilting her head to the side. "I have spoken to him of many things, but mostly told him that he must take counsel with Athena. She is his patron goddess. Before he can ask me to aid him in this war, he must speak with her. I cannot infringe upon her chosen without risking offense towards her."

Staring up at the starry sky, he said, "That wasn't actually why I wanted to see you."

"I didn't think it was," her reply lacked the humor it once would've held.

Facing her, he swallowed. "If something bad happened to me, how would you react?"

"It depends upon what you mean," her reply was slow in coming. "You are a part of a war. Bad things happen to those who participate in the battles. It is an unfortunate fact of war. It doesn't mean that I like it but I know that I have to accept it. I enforce the rule of non interference to all the gods who have children in this war. If I do not hold myself to that standard, I cannot rightly call myself Queen of the gods."

Closing his eyes, he tried again. "Okay, let me restate that. What if it was a deliberate attack? An attack that was not in the heat of battle?"

Her eyes went cold. "That is a foolish and pointless question, Heracles, and you are completely aware of it."

"I guess I just wanted to hear it confirmed," he despondently replied.

"An attack upon you is an attack upon me even if you are not officially recognized as my champion any longer," her voice was crisp in the night. Full of the dreadful chill and anger that she was known for. "I won't interfere with what is to be – as I did not allow Zeus to on Sarpedon's death day. But I will not ignore a threat against my champion – especially when he is my child."

The sound of many horses coming their way startled them. "The Amazons," he said.

"Megara is not with them," she replied, knowing instantly where his mind went. Grateful that she could ease his mind about this one thing. "She thinks this whole war is foolish. And has been quite vocal in her words that this will only lead to the end of their race. In the wake of Hippolyta's death, she has become the de facto leader until the Amazons have elected their new queen, though it seems a forgone conclusion that Admeta will take that position. There are many who believe her and are preparing to move deeper into the wilds, others have chosen to follow Penthesilia."

"Admeta?"

"Has gone home to reiterate her father's choice of Iphicles as his heir for she will stay with them. As he has done admirably as the regent over the years, there will be little argument from the people," her answer was pensive, distracted. There was something coming with the Amazons, a presence she hadn't felt in years. A presence that had been forbidden to come unless invited. Concentrating, she withheld her gasp of displeased shock with effort.

_Enyo_…the ancient goddess of war.

She who had often been a source of frustration to Hera.

A goddess who had come into being and power at the same time as the Titans had, yet she had not been a relative to any of them. Like Hekate's strange presence, she was different than the quirky goddess of crossroads and witchcraft. Her manner was sneaky, secretive, and constantly shifting.

Though she had ultimately decided to form an alliance with Zeus, none of them had ever been quite sure what to make of her. For she never lost that edge that characterized her. Even Prometheus had been at a loss to explain Enyo – and if he couldn't read you…well, that was a troubling sign.

She served as a counterpart to Ares, his equal in many ways. But she had kept her distance over the centuries, preferring the wild places to civilization. As enmity existed between Ares and Athena, it was worse between the two goddesses.

For while Enyo had the fiery character of Ares, she had the cunning mentality of Athena.

If it was indeed her, she must warn those on Olympus. "I must be off – protect Cassandra until such a time as you are relieved of your duty. If you fear my wrath coming down upon the Trojans, I would advise you to leave as soon as you are able. You really have no place in this war."

The wind whispering around him was the only sign that she'd been there at all.

Heracles was far from comforted.

654321

Ares paced, nursing his wounded arm. Unable to comprehend all that was going on in the so called war – even after his talk with his mother. More than anything, he felt confused and frustrated by the way things were going and he knew he wasn't the only one.

Deimos and his brother Phoebus watched him pace, almost as frustrated as him by this Trojan situation. The only thing he could be grateful for was that they lacked a third member of their party. The one who was most vocal about her discontent. For Eris was off, trying to stir up some trouble.

More than simple taunting, that was.

Which brought him back to his original question, what kind of war was this?

It was a question he'd asked before but had gotten no real answer that suited him especially when he thought about what was going on. In every battle that made any movement forward, there seemed to be something that caused a ceasefire. No one seemed to want to do anything to end the conflict with a definitive battle.

Or even to say that the war really was a waste of time and to call it quits.

The state of flux they were in confused him. Quite honestly, he didn't know what he was supposed to do about changing the situation. How was he supposed to do his job when the warriors themselves were acting so inconsistently? So at odds with their orders and what they should be doing.

Whether it was Achilles leaving the field in a huff – a highly justified one at that. Ares couldn't quite understand the stupidity of Agamemnon for insulting his finest warrior. Or Paris being removed before the final blow could be struck and end the conflict. Athena deciding to spend the day plotting with Odysseus about who knew what but he was sure it meant trouble for him.

He didn't trust the wily warrior, though he couldn't deny his skills or his cunning.

And then there was dear, old dad. The motives of the King just confused him – and irked him. It seemed like there was no real motivation for why Zeus did anything in this war. He interfered just because he could, whenever he felt like it. Or he banned the gods – including him – from being truly involved with the conflict.

Whatever he did, he did on a grand scale.

And everything came to a complete, screeching halt.

Lives were lost, but not at the same rate he was used to in his wars. There were more injuries than deaths – and when there was a significant amount of death, it was usually related to illness – thank you Apollo. And while the lack of excessive, painful death pleased Persephone because it meant Hades wasn't backlogged and she was able to enjoy her husband whenever she was there, it was bad business for him.

After all, what kind of god of war got involved in a war that was more like a territorial skirmish than an actual, full out assault?

What really bugged him was the fact that his mother seemed to be only half heartedly there. While she made sure to be there so that Demeter wouldn't fight, though that wasn't always successful, she wasn't really fighting with her full abilities.

He _**knew**_ his mother was far more capable than she let on. As much as people thought he got his battle talents from his father, it was far from the complete truth. He'd been trained by Hera and raised on the milk of her vengeance – his rage was her rage in physical form and life.

Yet, she only did a few things and sat back, allowing the armies the liberty to do what they wanted. Her aid came when asked for. She guided the Achaeans – and that was a sore point for him. Why couldn't she support him – just once when it came to war? Why was she supporting Athena?

A dark frown crossed his face as he thought of his half-sister with her perfect, ice cold manner, and the cruel calculation that always robbed him of his momentum. She'd always been dear to his dad, why was it that she seemed to be stealing his mother from him?

Even the thought that Hera was really supporting Demeter did nothing to ease the sour taste in his mouth. Her decision placed her against him and he couldn't agree with it, though he supposed a famine would ruin a war faster than this non war was.

Nevertheless, it wasn't right that she just be around and not be more actively invested in what was happening. It wasn't as if she was afraid of Zeus and his punishments. As angered as he tended to be towards her actions, his anger towards her never lasted for long. At least a couple of decades, no more than a century.

So, what was holding her back?

And why was she talking to Heracles as though he was someone she thought of as precious to her?

As a child she adored and loved?

That horrendous man should've been reviled and driven away, not watched over. While he was forced to admit that the man had done much to bring glory to her name, it was wrong that he'd been given that name in the first place. The demigod shouldn't even have been placed in her service.

There was something about the situation that smelled of deception, of pain.

And he couldn't forget the way Heracles bested him on the field of battle years ago.

At least his wound then had been justified, had been tolerable. But this injury…this humiliating injury was not. He almost would've preferred to be injured again by that brat to what really happened to him. A scowl crossed his face at the thought of how he'd gotten his latest injury.

Or rather, _who_ had given it to him.

It was humiliating to even contemplate that he, Ares, the one and only god of war, had been wounded by…by a common, ordinary _mortal_. And not even one who had some kind of divine aid as had been the case months ago when he'd been hit in the gut by Diomedes. A man whose aim had struck him only because of that interfering _**Athena**_.

No, it was a _standard bearer_ who had done so.

Oh, the shame of it all.

He thought he could bear the shame if he'd only been able to convince mighty Achilles to join the Trojans. Now, there was a warrior he admired – but at a distance. Even he realized that Achilles could beat him in combat. There was a reason his father and uncle had stopped courting and wooing Thetis.

They weren't stupid enough to run the risk of begetting a child who might displace them one day.

The problem with that man was that he'd been told no, repeatedly and firmly. He couldn't understand why he wouldn't join him and return to the field of battle, adding more glory to his name. The only real danger to him was Hector for the two were rather evenly matched.

And if they were united, he wouldn't have to fear death by the other man's hand – or through his actions.

So, what was his quandary?

"We've got a setback," Eris announced her presence, slamming the door behind them to ensure privacy. It wasn't particularly easy or even assured but it gave them a measure of security.

"Other than our non war?"

"Helen has convinced Menelaus to leave," she replied, disgust ripe in her voice. Frustrated hands ran through auburn hair, almost tearing strands out. Her dark eyes narrowed in disgust. "Can you believe that she flaunted that body of hers in front of him and he just agreed?"

"So?" he asked, bored of hearing about yet another one of his father's mortal whelps. "She isn't really the focus of the war anymore. Surely you are experienced enough in war to realize that. The desire for wealth and revenge is what drives this war. As much as Menelaus hates to admit it, it has always been about that. The armies are hardly likely to follow after him, brother of the High King or not."

"Well, there won't be much of an army left once Achilles leaves with him," she smirked, seeing Ares stop and stare at her, startled for perhaps the first time ever. Well, not counting Aphrodite's breaking it off with him – permanently so that she could concentrate on her marriage.

And not going back on her word.

Phoebus and Deimos straightened up, shocked. She relished those looks even more than startling her brother. It was a very rare opportunity that she affected them. They always seemed to be immune to shock, so it was a real triumph when she achieved it.

"I thought _**that**_ would get your attention," her voice was smug. "You know that they still hold out hope as long as he's there that he'll rejoin the battle. If he goes, so does their will to fight."

Phoebus shook his blond head, his blue grey eyes puzzled. Thinking it over, he couldn't find any reason for the warrior to do such a thing. Not after all this time. "I don't get it. He's been threatening to leave for so long and never made a move to do so. Why is he going now?"

Deimos leaned back, shaking out his dark brownish gold hair, a cunning look in his brown eyes. It was quite obvious to him what was going on. Unlike the others, he hadn't ignored the warrior's time on the isle of Skyros. A warrior was shaped by his past – and he'd spent more than a few defining years there. There was someone there that he'd kept careful watch – a certain young man named Neoptolemus.

And while he lacked the skills of his father Achilles, he wasn't that bad a fighter.

"I think you're making to much of this," he drawled, lazily putting his hands behind his head. "I say he's going to get his son and bring him into the fold. We all know that Thetis will relent sooner or later. Zeus is nothing if not persistent when he really wants things to go his way. Seeing as her son is being called a coward and weakling by the Trojans, she has to feel something. Even _she's_ got some mother pride – and she'd want to show of her grandson's skills."

Clucking her tongue, she shook her head. "If only that were true. But unfortunately for us, that isn't the reason. It seems that Apollo has decided to send his precious little Trojan virgin off with the warrior as a reward for keeping his tongue silent about something."

"What?" Ares asked. Whoever heard of a god doing such a thing? Apollo, giving up his revenge? His torment of the girl who'd heartlessly rejected him? Who had played him for a fool? Going so far as to help them get away? Just what in all the levels of Tartarus was going on? "Did you get any indication as to why he'd do such a thing?"

"I wasn't close enough to hear – but I think it has something to do with Heracles. They were outside his tent, speaking quietly of some mystery child. A child that the divine couple is keeping silent about," she paused, tilting her head in thought. "If I had to guess, I'd say that it has to do with the Queen's strange allegiance to him."

Pausing once again, she gave it more thought. Her words now were quiet, somber. A shiver ran down her spine as she realized what she was about to say. Impossible though it may be, something may have happened to her mother and it had to be said.

It wasn't as if they were actually going to give her words any weight. "It's strange, how quiet she was when she returned and how sedate she's being. She's changed since her time away. If she was anyone else, I'd think she was attacked while living as a mortal."

Ares had stopped listening to her.

Mind whirling, he could only process a few thoughts. Before focusing on the ones that made the most sense to him. A few that forced their way through the confusion. _Child_…_mother's strange homecoming behavior…not caring about anyone or anything…and there had been a mortal war she was in…_there was a crash as the table went flying against the wall, shattering into thousands of pieces.

The three of them stared at him, fright on their faces. Under normal circumstances, they would've gloried at the sight of the war god's fury. Now, they only wished to shrink away from it. The terror they beheld was something that even they, as gods of mischief and ill doings, of panic and death, were unprepared for.

Ares' eyes glowed with rage. His hands were clenched. "_**I'LL KILL HIM**_!" The primal cry emerged, ripped from deep inside of him, and the trio shrank away, watching him storm out of the room.

Silence.

For several minutes – or perhaps it was hours – they stayed in complete silence. Finally, Deimos cleared his throat, bringing their attention to him. "What just happened?"

Phoebus and Eris exchanged looks. "Your guess is as good as ours," she finally said.

654321

_Ten years…it had been ten years since this mess had all started_. As she stared down at the camp from one of the palace's many viewing places, Athena couldn't help but regret the loss of life that resulted from this war. For the first time, she felt her heart twist in sympathy for the man she called her champion who missed his wife.

Such a feeling was so unusual for her that she wasn't quite sure how to process them. Now to shut them away for they had no place in her life. Or what to do about the feelings for they would only make her weak. Ignoring it was the only possible way to deal with it. A task made easier by the sight of Epeius' work in the Temple.

Still, she worried about Helenus and his way to observant gaze.

Like his sister, the man was a dangerous. Apollo had unknowingly done her a favor when he made the girl seem a liar. Now, if only he'd done something about the boy. Unfortunately, she'd have to take care of him herself for when he spoke, they listened. Listened to his words and his warnings - which meant that he was getting in the way of the destruction of Troy. As with Hector and Aeneas, they would all have to be dealt with.

Though she knew that she couldn't touch the later for he had a destiny to fill.

And then there was Deiphobus. Had he been on the Achaeans side, she would've admired him for his cunning. Of all the Trojans, only he had a mind to rival Diomedes and Odysseus. He truly thought and planned things out. It really was a shame he was on the opposite side.

Now, he was merely an annoyance that had to be dealt with.

Footsteps hurried up the steps and she looked up, startled out of her contemplation as Ares stormed by her. It struck her as bizarre for anytime he moved like that, he was going to battle. But with his wounded arm, he'd been forbidden to do so by Zeus.

Well, most of the gods had been forbidden from interfering. That didn't mean they listened, but they were careful in how they disobeyed him. And in how often they did so for Zeus was keeping a careful eye on them all. It was only with certain restrictions that he had even allowed her and Ares to be on the battlefield.

That being the case, she studied him, trying to read his actual mood. If she had to run interference, she wanted to know what she was facing. Seeing that thunderous expression on his face…it was petrifying to behold. Even she – who had fought him in many a battle – shivered to see that visage.

Still, she wouldn't let him know how he unnerved her.

He'd become absolutely insufferable then.

"_**MOTHER**_!" the bellow pierced the peace of the complex.

Zeus forced himself to walk, not run in as the cry shook the palace. Nodding to Athena, he stared down at Ares, shivering as he realized that his son had figured it out. Trying to quell his nervousness, he focused on another possibility. All the while knowing that it was a futile attempt.

Of all the things one could say of Ares, stupid was not one of them. He may be temperamental and moody, prone to quick and irrational moments of judgment. More often than not, no matter the situation, he rushed in without thinking first and ended up in a world of hurt.

But stupid?

No.

For all his flaws, his inability to be patient and win a few wars, he was not dumb. "What is wrong with you? Is your arm not healing well?"

"_**HOW COULD YOU NOT AVENGE MOTHER FOR THE HORRIBLE CRIME PERPETRATED AGAINST HER WHEN SHE WAS AWAY FROM YOU? DO YOU HONESTLY NOT CARE THAT SHE WAS HARMED? DOES SHE REALLY MEAN SO LITTLE TO YOU THAT YOU IGNORED WHAT HAPPENED**_?"

The questions echoed, reverberating off the walls and circling back upon them. The hate and condemnation was quite clear in his voice.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he glared at his son. Any chance he had of keeping control over this situation was rapidly slipping away. He had to get the both of them somewhere private before it all decimated out of his hands – and everyone knew the truth. "You, in my office now! Don't," he ordered, seeing Ares open his mouth to speak.

For once the boy had the sense to keep his mouth shut.

"Athena, when Hera arrives, please ask her to join us. You are not needed in this."

"But, father," she started. While she knew that he could take care of himself, the thought of leaving him alone with a highly irrational Ares did not sit well with her. She had to protect her father for it was a duty she had taken upon herself while in his mind and she would _never_ relinquish it.

"I mean it, Athena. Your presence will only get in the way," he warned.

"All right," her gaze was troubled as she watched them disappear up the stairs. Something itched at her. The sense that something was completely off and she needed to fix it. Now. The problem was, she couldn't figure out what it could be. Zeus, not protect Hera? Not avenge her?

What an absurd concept.

"Well, that was utterly and completely amusing. I trust that you are not going to sit back like a good little girl and ignore the deliciousness of this mystery," a voice drawled from the shadows.

Athena felt her hackles rise, every instinct on alert. So focused on Ares and Zeus, she had failed to note any threat that came her way. Had she been on the field of battle, she would have lost precious moments in trying to regain her advantage.

"Enyo," she hissed her name, as if to curse the other goddess by speaking name. "What are you doing here?"

"I was invited by the Amazons," she coolly stated, pushing herself up from the pillar and lowering her hood. Dark hair pulled away from a face of stern beauty, her brown eyes glared at Athena. On one side of her hips was a whip, the other had a pair of sais, and sheathed against her lower arm was a throwing knife. There was a golden design on her dark skin, denoting which tribe of Amazons she bore her allegiance to.

"As Penthesilia is from my region, I am her patron goddess more than you are."

"Be that as it may, you are not to darken Olympian heights without permission of the King or Queen. I highly doubt you were invited," she retorted, hanging onto her temper with effort. "You may leave at any time – and do be sure to not come back for you aren't wanted."

Clucking her tongue, "You are such a child. A precious, darling little thing. When war is involved, I have a place in it as much as you. I am always invited. Though I may be late in my arrival, I have a place in the events that happen here – that was an agreement drawn up before you were born."

"Enyo, you will keep a civil tongue in your head. As it is obvious that you have forgotten, I shall remind you that the agreement you refer to was not sanctioned by the River Styx nor was it witnessed by Iris. Thus, it is subject to the whims and decisions of Zeus."

"That air headed messenger?'' the question came instinctively even as her mind recognized the speaker. She wished that she'd had a bit of time to rest before facing the others and cursed her curiosity for leading her away from the guest chambers and towards the sound of the disruption.

"Watch your tongue, Enyo. Especially when speaking of Iris for she is more than a messenger, as Hermes is more than a messenger to us. Iris is our goddess of the most sacred and binding of oaths. Therefore, you taking refuge behind such a loose confederation of words is inappropriate and ill advised. What you think of as an open invitation is merely a codicil of a talk – one that can be easily dispensed with," there was a faintly welcoming tone buried within the scathing speech.

Enyo turned and curtsied low. For all their differences, she respected this woman. It was mostly from a distance, true – but there was respect for her nonetheless. One had to respect a woman who stood true to her convictions and love for a husband who had proven to be less than trustworthy.

And she couldn't quite forget the powerful way Hera fought.

The ferocity and skill displayed…it was admirable, desirable. Honestly, it was the only reason she had thrown her lot in with the Olympians.

And earned the eternal enmity and hatred of Zeus. "Queen Hera," she greeted her. "I apologize if my words were rash and incorrect."

"A very pretty apology," Hera paused, her voice remained glacial. Her eyes even colder. "It is a pity that I do not believe it and find nothing in me to want to prove the veracity of your claim."

"I hardly know what to say," she murmured, trying to read _something_ in her expression. It had never been easy for if there was something that Hera had learned early on, it was to disguise everything she thought and felt behind a mask of perfect civility.

There was even the sense that not even Zeus himself would be able to read her unless she wanted him to.

"That is a good thing – especially since your rudeness was not directed towards me but towards Lady Athena," she reprimanded her. "If anyone deserves such pretty words it is she and not I. Nevertheless, I have long ceased to hope that I shall ever have civility between the two of you. I shall settle for the two of you remaining at a polite distance from each other until Zeus and I have spoken about your living arrangements."

"By your own rules, you cannot deny me a place to stay."

"No. But we can deny you the right to be a full part of any council of war we have. Or even one of peace," she calmly pointed out. "Zeus would not be at all upset to deny you voice or the right to speak for your Amazons. And while my voice is strong enough to fight him, I haven't the same connection as you do to them."

"Oh, that reminds me. Father wants to see you," Athena informed her, keeping an eye on Enyo. Her fingers itched with the need to hit the woman, though she realized how irrational she was being. But of all the goddesses, only this one and Aphrodite had been able to irk her so completely, her objectivity was lost. "And our guest wishes to know what this meeting is about."

"I think it sounds fascinating when Lord Ares was accusing the king of not caring that some insult was done to you," she defended herself.

"What?" Hera asked, keeping her face a mask. It wasn't possible…not now. He couldn't possibly have come to the correct conclusion as to why she treated Heracles so differently. Even as she tried to deny it, a cold feeling settled within.

She knew that he knew.

Her son was no fool.

"Ares seems to think that you need avenging from some attack. Possibly upon your virtue," Athena elaborated.

"He does," she made the question a statement. "I suppose I'd best find out what he thinks is going on. Enyo, don't make me enlist Hephaestus' chains in order to keep your snooping nose out of this business. If it concerns Troy, I am sure that everyone will know by nightfall anyway. You shall have to endure patiently."

"I hate waiting," she retorted.

Hera smiled. A cold smile that did not light up her eyes or warm her manner any. "Then I suggest you learn to love it for I shall not allow you to get an understanding of the situation before it has been discussed by the concerned parties. Of which you are not." Her stare was hard, reading her body language with no trouble.

The other was furious at the idea that she was not truly a part of their Pantheon.

It was a shame she felt that way. But it was a choice Enyo had made when things were still fluctuating between the old and the new. There had been no place for one such as she at the time. They were still trying to establish peace and had no need for the embodiment of war.

It had been the same choice placed before Hekate. The other goddess hadn't seemed to mind stepping aside for the younger generation, knowing that they would find a need for her soon enough. And she had been right. The goddess of witchcraft and crossroads was indispensible to them.

"I shall see you tonight – and no earlier," this was spoken with a sharp edge, "For I am only allowing you to stay in the main complex until I speak with Zeus. This is merely a formality. Should I feel you any earlier, I will chain you up and fling you over the edge of Olympus myself."

It was no idle threat.

Enyo knew this for she had been thrown off by Hera before.

Granted, it had been for a justified reason and she was right to fear that it would happen again. This time for far less reasonable reasons but out of personal dislike. The first time it had happened, Enyo had been causing more than a little bit of trouble for the gods.

Stirring up an already messy affair – that of Zeus and his not so quiet flirtation with one of the nymphs. Not to mention, trying to crawl into bed with Ares while he was with Aphrodite. She wondered if the rumors were true and the love goddess had somehow gone mostly monogamous.

In one aspect, she would love it.

If she could seduce Ares, their children would bring new meaning to the term war. On the other hand, it meant that her curiosity about Hephaestus would go forever unanswered. There had to be some reason that he was in the position he was in.

Fire was no joke. She was curious to see just how much of his gift was natural. And how much of it he had come by because he worked with the flames almost constantly. There had to be a reason for Aphrodite's sudden devotion to him. She wondered how deep it went, if she could experiment with him.

"As you wish," she said.

Hera looked at Athena, "If she looks like she's going to follow me, you may toss her off."

"With pleasure," there was a definite note of delight in her voice.

"But only if she does so without provocation, Athena." There was a clear warning. As much as she wished to trust her, she knew that such a thing was risky. These two were born combatants. To leave them alone and hope that they would get along was to be foolishly shortsighted.

Sighing, she yielded. Hera was right, of course.

It didn't mean she had to like it, but the Queen was right.

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_Author's Note : I found the reference for Iris being the goddess who presided over the most sacred of oaths in Nancy Halloway's "The friendly guide to mythology: a mortal's companion to the fantastical realm of gods, goddesses, monsters, and heroes". (Went to the library and even though it was supposed to be in, I couldn't find it.) Now, it isn't a perfect book (I object to what she says of Hera (claiming that she was an unattractive, ugly goddess – because we all know Zeus would be with someone who was physically unappealing. Yeah, right.) and how she categorizes the Olympian brothers) but she came up with some job titles I wasn't aware of. _

_She was considered far more trustworthy than Hermes who also performed a similar function. During the course of writing this tale, I came across many, many, many different myths and stories in an attempt to try to find the ones that best worked with my over all view and what I wanted to accomplish. I also did some other research and found Iris was the one who went into the Realm of Hades to get the water of Styx to legitimize an oath. As she was more trusted than Hermes (at least in relation to oaths), I figured that this solemnizing over sacred oaths was an unwritten part of her job._

_Also, there are some sources that say Eris, Discord, and Enyo are the same person. I have chosen otherwise, giving Enyo her own identity – an identity that existed before the Olympians. I figure if the Titans had a god of the waters (Oceanus) and the Olympians had one (Poseidon), why wouldn't both generations have a figure, a deity, that represented the duality – e.g. the passion and the reason – of war?_

_Thus, Enyo got her own existence_.


	24. Don't worry, Mother, I understand

_Author's Note : I hope this lives up to expectation. I really do. Man, both Zeus and Ares scare me here - especially the conclusion Ares eventually comes to._

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"Ares, you are my son. Though I am angered by your accusations about me, I will hear you out. What nonsense is this that you are spouting about my feelings for Hera? About what happened to her when she lived as a mortal?"

"_**How could you let mother be raped and not care? Not do anything to redress the wrong**_?" It was unwise to yell at Zeus. Ares was clearly aware of that. But his father's composed attitude…his almost blasé feelings towards what he'd heard. Towards the accusation being leveled at him…he couldn't believe that this was his father standing before him.

Acting as though he hadn't heard anything wrong.

Zeus stared at his son. His fiery son. His dangerously tempermental and violent son, and wondered just how he was going to explain to him what happened. In all their talks about how they would reveal the truth, this had not been one of them.

And he wished that it had been for he didn't know quite how to answer his questions without going into more detail than he felt his son deserved to know.

"She was not raped, Ares," he quietly said, starting with the simple truth.

This calmness angered him even more. "_**Then how do you explain the presence of the child? Heracles is her son! Her son and not yours! You can't possibly be suggesting that mother would willingly crawl into bed with anyone. Such behavior is your thing, dad, not mother's. To suggest it happened at all is low, even for you.**_

"_**And I didn't think you could possibly sink any lower in my estimation.**_

**_"How could you accuse mother of such base behavior? Does it make you feel better about yourself to try to tear her down?"_**

"_**SILENCE!**_" The roar shook the room.

Ares was so startled by the sound, he stumbled back. Even though he'd been trying to get a reaction, he hadn't expected this one. Perhaps his father would've struck him with lightening, tried to hit him…but yell at him? Stand there with an implacable, unreadable expression, his eyes revealing the battle within. Rattle the building with thunder and lightening, no. He hadn't thought his father would restrain himself and yet reveal the extent of his power.

Voice silenced, he stared at his father, wide eyed.

"How dare you?" his voice was low, icy.

"How dare you suggest that I would think such a thing of Hera?" he asked. Stalking over, he loomed over his son in a veritable tower of rage. His palm itched to slap him but he restrained himself.

Barely.

Should he do so, he knew that Ares would strike back and the moment would be lost to try to reach him. Right now, reaching him was more important than lashing out.

But it didn't erase the desire.

"She is my _**wife**_, brattling, and I know her very well. Had something like what you suggested happened to her, there isn't a mortal upon all of _**Gaea**_ who wouldn't have felt the sting of my blow. I would tear the earth apart in my anger, my desire to see that the ones who harmed her were punished.

"And you know it."

Ares made to speak but stopped, unsure of what he would have said anyway.

"Still your tongue, Ares, before I still it for you – permanently."

It was clear that he meant every word. For the first time in a long time, he feared his father. Feared the strength and power that he held, controlled so easily. And he'd yet to lay a hand upon him, though he could see the strain of refraining from doing so was fraying his temper.

Almost – almost – he wished that Zeus would just hit him.

"As hard as it is to contemplate the idea, Hera is a free agent. While she was away, she was allowed to live and do as she choose. I gave her that permission, feeling that she would be far safer if she had that freedom. And she did," he glared at him. Practically daring him to interrupt. "What happened between her and this man was purely consensual. To suggest otherwise is to give your mother no credit or honor."

"You don't honestly expect me to believe that," he growled out. His incredulity won over his fear of his father. It was probably unwise, but he couldn't have kept the words back for any reason. What Zeus was saying was utterly and completely inconceivable.

Did he honestly expect him to believe such a thing?

"I don't see why you should not, Ares. It is the truth," Hera calmly said. Her voice completely at odds with the racing of her heart. Upon hearing the thunderous roar of her husband's voice, she had given up any pretence of dignity and run the rest of the way, hoping to avert damage being done.

The only pause she had made was when she stopped to make sure her veil was in place.

"Mother, you don't have to lie. Especially to me," Ares snarled. "You can stop protecting the mortal who harmed you. Just let me know who it is and I'll take care of him."

Zeus stepped back and sat down, shaking at how close he'd come to losing control of the situation. He _wanted_ to cause Ares pain for his words, even though he knew that doing so would solidify in the boy's mind what he believed was the truth.

Looking at her, he was willing to let her deal with this. He trusted her enough to know that she could and would prefer to handle it herself. While she would appreciate his help, she had to try to clear up matters first without him adding to the tension. But if she seemed to be in trouble, he would step in.

Even if it meant using violence.

Shaking her head, she walked over to him. Resting a hand on his shoulder, she held him in place. Her touch was gentle upon him - as was her strength. "Ares, you need to listen to me very carefully. I know that it is hard for you to believe and accept but I was not raped. I was not unwilling. What happened between me and this man was consensual. I wanted to be with him in precisely the manner I was."

"I don't believe it," he stated. She could not name the man. Why would she think that he would believe her when she remained quiet about the man's name? If she had been willing, the name would fall easily from her lips, not be shrouded in secrecy.

No, he was right.

"Why do you find it so hard to believe that I could be willing, Ares?" she asked, wondering what was going on behind those dark eyes. Something had changed in his manner, she could feel it. Feel the change within him and it chilled her.

Not for the first time did she wish that she could see inside his mind. "Is it not possible that I could have a moment of weakness? That I allowed myself to love and be loved by another?"

Ares was silent, staring at her. There was something in her eyes that said she spoke the truth. That conveyed her sincerity to him. In her face, thousands of emotions flashed by but the one that caught his attention the most…the ones he focused on was the pain and fear. He'd seen enough hostage victims to know that they could fall – and had been known to fall – into a state of love with their captors.

It made complete sense to him that this is what happened to her.

And worked with why father had not avenged her.

His father's display of rage was not false. Nor was it merely a show of wounded pride that he'd been taken to task. There really was no one who would've been able to stand against him if Hera had been harmed whether it was deliberate or accidental.

Of that one thing, Ares felt sure of. It was the reason he felt so betrayed by his father's indifference. By the way he just ignored Ares' words. It was the center the marriage of his parents was built upon – that his father would always protect his mother.

Thus, he breathed a bit easier knowing that his father wasn't a completely heartless monster.

At least, when it came to Hera's personal safety and welfare.

So, he had to figure out what really happened to her. If mother had thought she was truly in love with this man, she wouldn't believe there was any coercion. That is precisely what she would tell Zeus, that she had been with this man of her own free will.

And, of course, he would believe her. It would never occur to him that something of a darker nature might have been at work upon his wife. Not having the same kind of understanding of the dark side of war, he wouldn't know of the depths of depravity that some mortals were capable of. As a goddess, any harmful marks left upon her body would've disappeared.

He knew that she had confiscated some weapons made of adamant – how else had she been able to get her hands on them but through her tormentor? So, it was up to him to do what no one else could – or would. The first step was to rid all of them of the reminder of what had happened to her.

And he thought he knew the perfect way to do it.

Or rather, the perfect tool to use. In the process of defending his mother, he would harm the woman who'd ripped the heart from his chest and stomped all over it – Aphrodite.

"Ares?" she called his name, worried by his silence. By the strange light in his eyes that had replaced the fanatical one. Shivers ran down her spine for she wasn't quite sure what it meant, but she knew it meant trouble.

"Don't worry about it, mother. I understand what you're telling me perfectly," he replied, voice lacking the harsh bravado and scorching passion of earlier. "I apologize for my rash words, father. You needn't worry that I shall speak to you in such a fashion again. In truth, I should have remembered who you are."

Bowing, he made his way to the door, "I shall see you at breakfast tomorrow."

There was something in his manner...something that sent off an alarm within Zeus. Only once before had he seen such a look - it was on Cronus' face seconds before the war between them commenced. Never before had he thought about how much Ares resembled his grandfather.

Now that he had, he didn't think that he'd be able to forget it. "I don't like this, Hera. He's up to something."

Wrapping her arms about her waist, she just looked at the door with a troubled expression on her face.

Zeus watched his wife for a moment. After waiting to see if she would say anything, he decided to take a chance and ask, "Everything all right?"

Shaking her head, she sat down beside him, resting her head on his shoulder. "Ares knows. It's only a matter of time until his children know. This is becoming quite a farce. We need to tell everyone now. Things are already spiraling out of control."

His arm encircled her shoulders. "You're right. Does that include Enyo?"

"Everyone means everyone, Zeus," she replied, giggling a little at his tone of distaste. Glancing up at him, she studied his face. "You know, you never told me why you don't like her. I mean, I know why I dislike her. But you? I've never known you to dislike anyone except Prometheus."

Stroking her arm, he was silent for a time. "It's not that I dislike her, I just don't trust her."

There was something in his voice that puzzled her. Something that she decided not to pursue. She had a feeling that this was the one thing she didn't want to know. "So, I'll gather everyone together and we'll tell them tonight. I have a feeling that if we put it off any longer, we'll lose complete control over the situation."

"I'm going to pull Athena aside and tell her myself," he quietly said.

"Okay," she agreed, closing her eyes.

Oh, how grateful she was that Alcmene had passed away several years earlier. At least her friend wouldn't have to deal with this mess. But her family…her son and grandchild. They would all need to have protection over them. "I'll warn Heracles – and Iphicles."

"Hera," he hesitated and tilted her chin up to meet his eyes. "Are you all right with this?"

A smile quirked her lips. "It isn't how I envisioned telling them but I can handle it. As long as I have you, I can face anything."

"And you say that I'm the sappy one," he replied.

"You are," she quipped. "Who do you think I picked it up from?" A low laugh escaped her at his mock pout.

"Impossible," he groaned.

"And yours," she smiled. "I'll send Athena to you and deal with Enyo, shall I?"

Shaking his head, "You can send Athena but we need to deal with Enyo together."

"Don't you trust me?" she asked, rather surprised. Dealing with untenable guests had always been relegated to her, not him. Zeus wasn't fond of handling unpleasant things.

"Enyo is one that should be dealt with by two, Hera. You know full well how difficult she can be," he replied.

Nodding, for it was true, she rose. But she teasingly reminded him, "I've already thrown her off Olympus. So, I'm not that worried about her. Still, we best get this over with. The sooner we can work on damage control, the better off we'll be."

"It is to be desired."

"But isn't always the end result," she ended with a sigh. Leaning forward, she gently kissed him before stepping back.

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Ares walked the hallway, deep in thought. One of the problems, as he saw it, was that he couldn't kill Heracles himself. No matter what the truth was behind the conception of the demigod, he was still Hera's child. Still of her flesh and blood. Protected by that same parental line that protected all of her children.

And, though he squirmed uncomfortably at the thought, she had proven that she cared for him.

No, he needed some other way to get rid of him.

It wasn't as if he'd have to put up with the brat once he was dead. There was no way his father would give him immortality. Even if it seemed that he'd accepted his wife's willing adultery – something he'd have to ponder later – he wouldn't want to see it every day for the rest of time.

His father wasn't like his mother, able to swallow up the insults done to her and accept his children.

No matter what they were, his mother had to accept the decrees of his father.

His fist clenched as he remembered the day Dionysius wandered into the main hall. A lazy smile upon his face, the swagger he'd developed over the years...The day that drunken wastrel had just waltzed in as though he owned the place. How casual he'd been with them.

His confident swagger that this was always his home, that he'd just gotten lost on the climb.

Then the unmitigated gal when he had been accepted by Zeus and had been given Hestia's seat among the twelve Olympians. While it was true that she had yeilded it up to him to avoid contention, he had no right to accept it.

Hera had been all smiles and acceptance, but Ares clearly recalled her hurt and pain.

In her eyes, he'd seen it as she realized the truth. As she saw further proof that her position as Queen of the gods was a joke. That her sacred marriage, the one thing she truly valued in all the world became a mockery of the gods. The shame, the pain she felt, her loneliness as the number of her husband's illegitimate children grew and swelled about her.

Leaving her an island in the midst of his children – children who would be far more loyal to him than to her should anything happen.

But his mother was the Queen of the gods for a reason. She knew how to rise above the occasion. How to act the gracious and kind host that she was. Putting aside her own pain, she had accepted her husband's son into the upper echelon of the gods.

It was something that he knew Zeus was not capable of doing.

"Ares?" a confused voice asked off to his right.

Cursing himself for not paying more attention to where he was going, he forced himself to stop. "Hephaestus," he greeted him with a courteous nod.

"Is there some problem with your armor? Your sword? Has the new bow failed you? Or your champion?" his questions came fast, his nervousness revealed. These were the only reasons that the blacksmith could think of for his brother's presence near the forge.

This was the last place Ares would ever willingly come for it meant that he ran the risk of running into Aphrodite.

"No," he paused, something coming to mind. Over the centuries, despite their rocky beginning, his mother and brother had become close. It was a relationship that he'd often envied, though he certainly wouldn't want to be weakened by becoming dependant upon another's opinion of him.

By relying upon another for strength and comfort.

Turning his attention away from his troubling thoughts, he stared hard at him. Studying him, trying to read into the deepest recesses of his brother's mind. It had never been an easy task for Hephaestus had been to deeply hurt over the centuries by everyone's attitude towards him to wear his thoughts openly.

It was quite an enviable skill really, though one that frustrated him when he wanted to judge how to approach him.

But he could read him better than he could Athena. "Did you know?"

The venom in his voice startled him and he took an involuntary step back. "Know what?" he warily asked, watching him carefully. Searching his mind, he tried to recall anything he might've done – or heard – or said – that would upset Ares so much.

As nothing came to mind, he silently thanked the Graces that they had convinced Aphrodite that this was a good time her them to go out for a girl's weekend, reminding her that she needed to get out of the forge every once in a while.

To get back in touch with her love karma, though he had certainly never heard of such a word. And wasn't sure he understood what it meant.

The last thing he needed was her presence to further confuse matters.

"Mind if I come in?" Not waiting for an answer, he pushed past him and entered the forge. The familiar scents of fire and smoke assailed his senses and he remembered a time – a time before Aphrodite had come between them – when they had gotten along.

While they'd never be close as brothers tended to be, they had known that they could count on the other to protect them should things get hairy.

In the far corner, he could see the stool he'd claimed as his own. There were many half finished projects lying about the workshop, beautifully crafted pieces of delicate jewelry. Ornate shields with inlaid jewels, swords that looked to heavy to be of any practical use, and bronze lances…

"These for the war?" he asked, more for the sake of relaxing the smith than out of genuine curiosity.

Not that he particularly cared if he was comfortable or not, he just knew that he'd get more accurate answers if his brother wasn't prickly.

Hephaestus shook his head, shutting the door after looking down the hall. There was something in the war god's manner that said they'd need some privacy. "No, those are more decorative and would serve no practical purposes in combat. The weapons for this conflict are on my workbench. Ares," he hesitated, wondering if he dared to approach him.

Finally, he decided against it. The last thing he needed was for him to get upset and possibly attack him for his perceived crime. "What is it that you want from me? What have I done? You know that if it's within the sphere of my power, I will help you."

A derisive snort escaped him as he sat down, facing him. That was his older brother. With very few exceptions, he was always the helper, the accommodating friend. No matter the need or occasion, he was there for you. Rain or shine, if you called him, he would come and help you.

It often amazed him to realize that they were brothers when the other acted more like Hestia than their parents.

"I am not speaking of power. Or of you doing something against me, Hephaestus. I speak of mother – and that miscreant Heracles. Did you know?" he repeated his question, carefully studying his face. Trying to see any betraying hint of knowledge or even a sign that he had suspected something that no one else did.

Hephaestus listened carefull and picked up on things that others couldn't.

Or things they didn't want to really know, mostly because most of the Olympians refused to recognize him when he was around. They found him disconcerting because of this and because of his appearance, were often uncomfortable around him – though he grudgingly admitted that Aphrodite managed to soften his socially awkward edges and made him more comfortable to be around.

Shrugging helplessly, "I have to ask again, know what?"

The sheer amount of confusion convinced Ares that Hephaestus was telling the truth. He really had no idea what he was talking about. It wasn't such a surprise for they had both never dreamed that their mother would ever be able to look at another man, much less seduce him.

And, while Ares knew that hadn't really happened, the situation spoke of the possibility.

Or, to be more truthful, that was what his parents had wanted him to believe.

"It has come to my attention that Heracles is mother's son," he stated and watched as the color drained away from his face. A strange thought occurred to him. Was his brother going to act like a squemish little girl and faint from the shock? If he did, he was on his own. There was no way that Ares could catch him.

His brother's muscular frame was just too much for him to handle – at least with his injury.

He needn't have worried. From out of a room in the back, two golden maidens moved forward and helped the smith to sit down in the chair he hadn't seen until that moment. Now that he'd seen it, it seemed rather obvious. The style was far more delicate than the smith usually kept in his workshop.

As that spoke of his former lover, he shook off the thoughts and concentrated on the maidens. The marvelous creatures never failed to capture and hold Ares' attention. Of excellent craftsmanship, they almost breathed of life as the statue of Pandora had. If not for the coldness of their skin, many would think that they were living beings.

He'd often wondered why it was that Hephaestus had never designed soldiers like these women. They had an incredible amount of strength and could endure all kinds of weather. Such warriors would greatly help him win his wars, but he'd never felt it right to ask him for a few.

They were there to help him do the work no one else was willing to.

Waving them off, he stared at Ares for the longest time. It wasn't until they had gone back to their places that he cleared his throat. While he trusted them, he just wasn't comfortable speaking of his mother's possible affair in front of them. "Are you quite sure that he is physically her son and not just one who has become so in her mind because of his long servitude towards her?"

"Are you suggesting that my hearing has failed me?" he snarled. "Has proven to be less than it should be as my skills on the field of battle tend to?"

Closing his eyes tightly, he exhaled harshly and shook his head. Of _course_ he'd instantly take the defensive stance and not hear the real question he was being asked. "That is not what I am saying at all, Ares. Did mother actually say that she had sex with a man and conceived his child?"

"This is mother, Hephaestus," he dryly retorted. "She wouldn't be so crude about her liaisons."

"Fair enough," he conceded. It was only true. Men generally were more open and free when they spoke of their sexual conquests. There were very few women who came to mind who were easy about their affairs. Actually, his wife aside, he couldn't really think of one.

And that was no insult to her, it was just the way she was.

It was something that he'd learned to love and accept. To be easy with for it came with the attitude and personality that was Aphrodite. "Still, I hardly think it is our business what mother does so long as it doesn't interfere with normal business. Unlike father, I trust that mother is discrete."

"Mother was mentally attacked by this person," he bluntly said. "You know as I do that she would never willingly be with anyone who wasn't dad. Even if she did have the right to be, it isn't in her character. I believe that she was harmed in such a way that she thinks she was willing to be with this man. Father would never really harm her if he thought she was consenting, you know that."

"I hate to bring this up but don't you think that she could be telling the truth?"

Ares glared. "Don't be a fool. We have to avenge mother."

"Against a dead man?" he skeptically asked.

"Of course not," he stood and started to pace. The items left on the floor, he carelessly kicked to the side. They were discarded anyway. What need had he of being careful of them? "We need to get rid of Heracles."

Hephaestus' eyes widened. "Are you quite sane?"

"No, I don't think I am," he bitterly laughed, "Since I seem to be the only one who understands the insult done to mother by that _creature's_ father."

Thinking it best to not provoke him further but unable to come up with a way to back out of it well, he watched him for a bit. "It's not that I don't understand your position," he delicately said, though he really didn't understand _why_ Ares was so worked up about it. If their mother insisted that she'd been willing, then they needed to accept it.

And as she had made her feelings quite clear about Heracles, Ares needed to accept that also.

He needed to realize that she wouldn't back down from her position. If he wanted to best show his love, his concern for their mother, he needed to focus on something other than the hero. "I just don't think we should focus on Heracles. Shouldn't our efforts be aimed at protecting mother from the backlash?"

"What backlash?" he asked. "Heracles will be gone and so will the attack upon mother's name. In a few years, no one will even remember him."

"Ares," he hesitated for a moment, then proceeded. Someone had to point out the truth to him and hoped that he would hear him. "His deeds will be spoken of in song and story for centuries. Just because he's dead doesn't erase what he's done."

A fanatical light lit up his eyes, "Not when I'm done with the Trojan War. If we must have a mockery of a war, then it will be the war as _**I**_ envision it to be. When this war is done, they will only sing and tell of it. Heracles will be _**nothing**_ compared to the warriors on that field below us. Anything that happened before this conflict will cease to be, except for the adventures of the gods. Only our actions will stand the test of time as it should be."

Hephaestus thought it best not to mention that _**Heracles**_ was one of those warriors.


	25. I Will Make Sure He Pays Myself

Author's Note: Sorry it has been so long since I updated. My old computer got stuck in a cycle of not being able to fully boot up and let me in. I've been locked out of it since April. I spent most that time - when it became obvious that we couldn't get it fixed at all - saving up money so that I could buy myself a new one, which is what I'm on right now. Then, once it arrived, I had to update and do all of those lovely little things that one has to do in order to make sure the computer runs properly. But now I should be able to continue to do my writing and updating.  
Thank you all so much for your patience, support, check-ins, and every other thing you've done to show your support. I really hope that it lives up to the long wait.

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Enyo followed after Hermes, rather relieved to be away from Athena and her steady eye. "Tell me of the war," she invited him, wondering at his stoic quiet. This was not the god she knew him to be. Right now, his eyes were shadowed, hidden from her study. It was a view she'd never seen of the messenger god and she wondered, was she now dealing with his persona as the god of liars?

Or was this war so complicated that it affected even he who seemed immune to most things?

If so, would she be able to differentiate between the two?

For she needed to hear word, needed to know what was going on if she was to deal with the war before her. If she was to help her Amazons win any victory, she needed to learn something of use to pass on to Penthesileia. "What news? I haven't heard much of it for King Priam waited until now to summon the aid of the Amazons," she prodded him when he remained silent.

He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, this goddess often spoken of in whispers whom he'd had cause to occasionally visit. Recognizing the same hungry gleam for gossip, for news that was often in his own with a shiver of dread. Because his understanding of what was really happening killed any desire to share with her.

Still, she had asked and he needed to tell her something.

After all, it would be best if she heard it from him for he could tell the truth while completely obscuring any of the real details. Who only knew what Ares would tell her. And he knew that she would go see him next, there was still that unfinished something between them. Recalling that Ares knew, he really hoped that Hera and Zeus could contain the situation before the war god escalated things to the point that there would be no control at all. "To call it a war is incorrect, Lady Enyo. It's a siege with occasional pauses for battles."

Puzzled, she momentarily paused and looked at him. This didn't sound right to her. A siege? When there were so many warriors on the plains below? When they both had powerful allies that would aid them at any time? When the sea stretched invitingly away from the death and destruction?

Why did they remain? Surely the treasures of Troy weren't that great – especially after the drain of war. All wars, no matter where they were fought, drained the funds of a city first. What was so important, so amazingly tempting behind Troy's walls, that it kept these diverse men here?

He waited for a moment to allow her to process his words before continuing, "I cannot quite believe that you did not know at least that much. That you expect us to believe that you were not informed as to the truth of the situation," he said. "Though I suppose that Priam could be so desperate for an end to the situation that he would do so, fearing that you would not come."

"And Lord Ares hasn't made any headway on breaking the siege?" she skeptically questioned. "He actually desires to prolong it?" That didn't sound like the hothead she knew.

"The Fates have decreed that Troy will lose," his reply was dry. It was a fair set of questions, there were others who had often brought them up - just never in a serious desire to know. Neither one of them was blind when it came to his half brother. "But Lord Zeus has promised Lady Thetis that until the affront against Achilles has been redressed, the Achaeans will not prosper."

"That hardly seems like something the Queen would allow," she vocalized her thought. Knowing Hera as she thought she did, she couldn't keep the words inside. The queen had retained all of her dignity and pride, yet she allowed her husband to make such an extravagant promise to another woman? A promise that showed a deep affection and caring for this her?

No, there had to be some other reason for the queen's compliance to this promise.

Something that kept her quiet and at one with Zeus.

But what was it? Could Ares' crazy accusations possibly be true? Even as she pondered the thought, she redirected his attention from her. Knowing that if he thought she might suspect something, she could find herself out of the loop.

Hermes was nobody's fool - not even Zeus'.

"Queen Hera has no objections to this…this promise given that shows her husband to be under the power of another woman?" She knew her disdain was showing and winced. There was only so much she could get away with.

Hermes walked on, almost ignoring her question. But he made a mental note to inform Zeus that they needed to address this situation as fast as possible. Should Enyo figure it out – or trick Ares into confirming his words – they would _**all**_ be in for a world of hurt.

Enyo would be as unwilling as Ares to hear the truth. And she would help him in any scheme he may have. Which reminded him, he'd best find out what the idiot was up to before Ares did something to anger the Queen they would all feel the end results.

"The situation is what it is, ma'am. If you are to be here, you need to accept the decrees that have been passed down."

Tilting her head, she stared at his back. "I don't actually have to obey Lord Zeus." There was a definite haughty pride in her voice as she stated the truth. Enyo knew who and what she was. She also realized that she may enjoy the hospitality of the gods but she was not one of them. It was in her best interests that they remember that too.

"No," he agreed, almost coldly. "But you do need to obey the Fates. And they have told how the war will end. Your women will not survive the battle if there is no peaceable surrender."

"The Amazons don't surrender," she almost snarled the words at him, pride stung by his words, truthful though they were. The Fates were cruel mistresses and played favorite with no one - not even the gods were immune to their all knowing eye. An eye that refused to judge, to show pity, to be merciful, or deliberately cruel.

Thinking of Penthesileia, she knew that her chosen Queen wouldn't back down, even if she had learned a few things from the Spartan allied Amazon Queen about diplomacy and their grandeur, the nobility, of their heritage. That woman was not a quitter but a passionate fighter. And though she had warned her to be wary of Heracles and Achilles, she knew Penthesileia well enough to know that she would disregard her words.

It was both a source of pride to her that the Queen was so bold.

Yet it irritated Enyo that she would ignore the advice and counsel given to her. "They will die or they will win. There is no other option for them," she glared at him, daring him to challenge her words.

"And will you fight with them? Hoping to alter their fate?"

A slow smirk crossed her face. It sounded like such an innocent question – but she also knew that he could read more into her answer than she had intended to say. No. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of besting her so easily, though her emotions were running rampant. Unfortunately, she feared she'd given away a bit of her defense already.

For she wasn't foolish enough to think that she could out think him should he put his mind to entrapping her. Only a fool would entangle the god of mischief and lies, hoping to best him at his own game. She had tried once before with another mischievous god - and lost.

And she liked to believe that she had learned her lesson from meeting Loki. Though she was older, she hoped that she was not foolish enough to try besting a tricky god again. "I will say nothing more to you, Lord Hermes. Well do I know the ways of your treacherous mind."

"In your lack of answer, you've said all I need to know," he replied with his quirky grin.

A chill ran down her spine for she recognized the truth he spoke – she had given more of herself away than she had originally thought. Not much to do any irreparable damage but enough that he'd be watching her closely.

And waiting for her inevitable fall.

"Your quarters," he gestured to the room on the left. "Rest well, Lady Enyo."

"Am I forbidden to roam the halls?" It was an idle question for she had her own theory upon what she would and would not be allowed to do. Still, it never hurt to ask what her limits were. Knowing one's boundaries gave freedom of mobility that would otherwise be lacking. Wondering if there was some way to regain what she had lost by finding the one ally she'd always had here - Ares. Did she truly have no one but him to turn to for help here?

"Only if you plan to spy."

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Hera tapped Athena on the shoulder, wondering where Enyo went but didn't want to ask. At the moment, the ancient warrior goddess was the least of her concerns. Ares' sudden revelation - and his subsequent action towards it - was. Taking a deep breath, she released it - and with it her fears. What would come, would come. "Your father wishes to speak with you."

"Thanks," she said, puzzled by the quietness of Hera's tone. By the solemnity and worry she could see hidden in the depths of her eyes. Was it possible that Ares' wild assertion was correct? Could her father actually have ignored an insult, an attack, upon Hera?

Quickly, she slapped herself for such disloyal thoughts.

Zeus was open with his affections towards mortal women and men. Even she couldn't deny that - she'd lost a dear friend because of her jealousy when Pallas had shown interest in him. An interest that he had seemed to return.

But he was _**not**_ negligent when it came to protecting Hera. Anyone who knew her father, knew of the depths of his feelings, knew that he would never ignore a harm upon his wife. Yet she knew that within every rumor told, every story passed around, there was a hint of truth.

Could Hera have had an affair?

Resolutely, she shut her mind to such treacherous thoughts.

Until she spoke with her father, she refused to think about it. She would not waste energy upon such unprofitable thoughts. Not only would it be of no use, it would cloud her judgment. And when speaking with Zeus, a clouded mind would be like walking into battle unprepared.

Athena was anything but unprepared.

Knocking on the door, she walked in at his order. He was sitting behind the rarely used table some mortal had given him a few centuries back. A chill ran down her spine as he coldly ordered her to leave her armor and weapons outside the door.

Zeus had never been anything but gentle and affectionate with her. More than understanding of her ways and desires, many of which she knew those on Olympus thought were strange and unnatural for one of her gender. _What was going on_? Once she was stripped bare of her aegis and weapons, she reentered the room and shut the door behind her at his order.

There was no way she could call it a request.

"Sit down, Athena."

Swallowing back her nervousness, she smoothed her dress down and sat in the indicated chair. As much as she tried, she could not still the rapid beating of her heart. _Had she erred somehow_? Her eyes watched her father, trying to read beyond what his stony face revealed to her.

It was an impossible task.

"What do you think of Ares' accusations, Athena?"

The question seemed innocuous but she sensed there was something else underneath. Something fragile and liable to erupt like a volcano. As a result, her reply was rather hesitant. Slow in coming for while she was a courageous woman, she was no fool.

"I think that he made some pretty bold statements regarding something he heard that he believes is a truth. But…he was most unwise to accuse you of such atrocious things." Her blood began to burn inside as the words came to mind again.

The insult against her father.

The utter audacity of Ares' claims that Zeus could be so ignorant and stupid.

_The unmitigated gal of the man_…she forced herself to breath easy for he was staring at her, waiting for her to do something.

Or say something.

But what? Did he need her to reassure him that she knew it was a bold lie? That she was utterly and completely confident in his ability to protect Hera from harm should anyone try to do so? Were those words she really needed to say to him?

Did he need the reassurance that she believed in him when everyone else turned him away?

"Father, it is foolishness on the part of Ares to believe that you would ignore Queen Hera's hurts - real or imagined." Her voice trailed off as he stared at her, saying nothing. Thoughts from before returned to her and she wondered, had she read the situation wrong? Had Hera cheated on Zeus?

Taking a deep breath, she clenched her fists into her skirt, hoping that he would not see them.

And knowing that he had.

"Did she have an affair while away from you?" The question was asked through bloodless lips, in a tense voice that she tried to keep neutral. And utterly failed.

"An attack upon her is an attack upon me, Athena. So, if you wish to harm her – you had best strike me first. Because I warn you that you will not get another chance." His voice was ice hard and shivers ran down her spine.

"On her or on me."

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Hebe nervously smoothed back her hair once more, knowing that she wasn't supposed to be here. These furtive visits she kept making would soon catch the eye of her mother. Or her father, which would be even worse. No matter who it was or the rank he held, her father never seemed to care for any of her crushes. Finding every single one of them lacking in some way, it made for a lonely life.

As it was, she was very lucky that Aphrodite had yet to catch her. Because of her unwise actions, the love goddess had been very watchful of her. Had been trying to find out just who it was that had caused her to act so…so unlike her serious and somber self.

These days, she found it hard to recognize herself.

But no matter the risk, she had to look upon Heracles' face again. In all her eternity, she'd never seen such a face of masculine gentleness. Demigods either had either a handsome face or a kind one – never had she seen one who possessed both.

And he did.

Grateful she was that her mother had some toleration for him for she rather imagined spending her days with this man when he ascended to their heights. She just knew that he would. How could he not after all that he had done in the service of her mother?

For them?

Even Ares had to grudgingly agree that he'd done more than most heroes and deserved the reward of a life in the Elysian Fields. A frown crossed her face as she thought of her brother. She hoped that he wouldn't object much to Heracles' joining them. For she loved her older brother, his obnoxious fits and tempers aside. It would make things rather difficult if he were to harass them.

She wouldn't give up Heracles if she was lucky enough to have him look her way.

And yet, she didn't want to cause strife to erupt in the family because of her choice.

She'd never stood by her choices before, somehow sensing that each person wasn't quite right. In this, she knew that she would hold firm. Heracles was the one she wanted. Out of all mortals, she felt that he was the one who would understand her best.

So, she would stand by her choice of him as her mate.

Taking great care to not move the flap more than necessary, she frowned when she saw Iolaus sitting there. Resting across his lap was a sword he was carefully sharpening. That explained that strange noise she'd heard but…Stepping back, she double checked her location.

No, this was his tent. _Why was his cousin there_?

Fear crawled up her spine. Was he injured? Breathing deeply, she was careful as she snuck in. The last thing she wanted was to cause him greater harm by startling either of them with her sudden appearance. Entering the tent, she tiptoed to the back area and wondered how she was to enter without it being obvious.

With Iolaus facing the curtain, she knew he'd seen any movement.

The sound of the horses in the distance had him on his feet moving to look out.

She breathed out a silent thank you to whoever it was that had arrived. Stepping into the darkness, she made her way to the bed. Her brow creased with a puzzled frown. The body on the bed seemed smaller than she remembered him being only two days ago. Surely his wounds couldn't have caused him to shrink and lose so much body mass in such a short amount of time.

Could it?

Not knowing much about mortal illnesses, she supposed it could be possible. Many had been brought low, stricken from seemingly insignificant wounds. Even tasting of death from such things. She hoped that it was not so, not to a man of so noble a bearing as he. If anything were to happen to him, she knew that there weren't many mortal healers who would be able to help him.

And asking for counsel from Apollo was out of the question since she had not revealed her intentions to her parents about wanting to be with this mortal son of Zeus' for the rest of his days.

She knew him well enough to know that he would ask why she was so concerned about him when she had never shown such an inclination towards mankind before.

Even her relationship with Ganymede had been out of necessity since he had been removed from Earth and given a job as cupbearer with her.

While she could argue that Heracles was not just any man but a demigod, she knew he wouldn't believe her. Her disdain for the majority of her father's mortal children was well known. Though she tried hard to be like Hestia and remain neutral when it came to her father's affairs and the results of them, it was hard for her.

As Hestia said, he never thought he was doing wrong for he always returned to Hera in the end.

But it was so hard when she saw how torn apart her mother was with every child to appear. With every woman who made him happy in a way that she thought she didn't. The scars upon her mother's heart were only too visible to the daughter she was often with.

Pulling back the sheet, she couldn't stop the horrified gasp that escaped her.

It couldn't be…Squeezing her eyes shut, she opened them again slowly. The image did not change. As she processed that fact, the sheet drifted to the floor, freed from her numb fingers. Lying on the bed, sleeping peacefully, was Cassandra.

Apollo's _virgin_ priestess.

Eyes dilating, all she could see was red.

Blood red.

Her fists clenched tightly together as she stared down at the sleeping mortal. This damnable mortal whose sleep was untroubled though her status in the world had just changed by becoming the hero's bed mate. How could he? What audacity he revealed by stealing the priestess from the Temple. How _**dare**_ he mock Cassandra's beliefs? Mock the sanctity of the oaths made to the gods?

And how dare her father allow this to happen?

After Heracles' last run-in with Apollo's priestess, she thought he'd show more respect for the gods.

Respect. What a joke that word must be to a man like Heracles. What need did he have to show respect when he was the son of the King of the gods? He was _**exactly**_ like their father, full of himself and his wants. This hero of the people, this demigod who had overcome much, had only done it because he wanted glory and honor. He wanted the immortality that came to so few.

It did not occur to her that the one at fault was Iolaus for he would never be able to get away with the Priestess on his own. Mayhap he had a part in what happened to the mortal this night. But be the one who had chosen to take what was not his?

No, that had to be all Heracles' doing.

And she realized with horror that she really was her mother's daughter. Had she truly felt Heracles' love, his powerful arms surrounding her, she would've been bound to him forever. Caught up in love and adoration for this man who would find new ways to break her heart.

Though it burned and tore into her soul, she was thankful for this painful rebirth. For this true understanding of his...his _ignoble and ignominious_ character. Because she would break away from that mold. She would not follow her mother's path. This…this puny _mortal_ would not keep his hold upon her.

She would see to that.

Personally.

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Demeter stood beside Poseidon and seethed as she saw the Amazons ride through the Achaean camp, untroubled by the Achaean guard. Power tingled her fingertips, begging for release. Begging for a chance to show these…these _allies_ of the idiotic Trojans just who it was that they had insulted.

To remind all that she was not some little, garden goddess but one who should not be trifled with. "I thought there were to be no more interlopers in this affair?"

His eyes narrowed. Displeased by this turn of events. How much longer would Hera put off the inevitable conclusion to this…farce? The Trojans must pay for what they had done. Not just to him but to the gods with their attitude, with their disrespect for the law that had been established. And that Paris…he should not be allowed to continue to exist as he did.

Still, he could hardly see the Amazons being thrilled by the prince. Of anything, that was the only thing he was looking forward to. These women, battle hardened and tough meeting the man who was once a shepherd but had become an indulgent prince. A man who did not take an active part in battle, who hid away. One who forgot who he was.

They would eat him alive.

"There weren't."

"Then why are they here?" her voice seemed to be no more than a snarl of sound.

"That I do not know."

A smile twisted her lips. One of which those who'd suffered under her wrath would've recognized and fallen, prostrated to the ground, begging for mercy. A mercy she would not grant them. No mortal who offended her or those she claimed as her own deserved mercy, be they innocent or guilty. She found it hard to pity any who ignored what was right.

"You do realize that this means I no longer have to carry out my promise to stay out of the war." An almost unholy glee sounded in her voice.

"Persephone will not soon forgive you," he warned though he relished this side of his sister. It was one he had not seen since the wars of the gods. Even her long grieving over the disappearance of Persephone had not shown this bloodthirstiness, the craving for destruction to pave the way for new life.

For a moment only did her eyes show sorrow and regret. _Persephone_…her beloved first born and most loved child. She knew that this would hurt her. Would bring about her sorrow at the death and loss of life, though it would mean an increase in devotion for the both of them. But this…this was an unforgivable act upon the part of the Trojans. Her eyes hardened instantly as she firmed her resolve.

"She will either get over it or not. I can no longer stand back and watch this happen. This siege ends – tonight."

"You might want to make it tomorrow," Hermes announced. "Enyo is here."

"I thought Zeus forbade her presence," Poseidon said. His eyes, ever shifting in color like the seas he commanded, exchanged a look with Demeter, both of them clearly uneasy with this turn of events. To all intents and purposes, this had become an entirely different war. A war in which they would have to walk an even finer line in order to remain ahead of the events that swirled about them. He remembered the last time Enyo was here. And he, unlike most of the Olympians, knew the real reason Zeus couldn't stand the woman.

Hermes shrugged, sensing a story beyond that which they had been told. Curiosity burned inside and he swallowed it back. Now was not the time for such tales, no matter how much he wanted to know. It just could not be. "She came with her Amazons. Therefore, he must abide by the laws he made regarding hospitality."

"Tomorrow then," she reluctantly agreed.

The air above them crackled. They looked uneasily at each other knowing that the sky only did that when Zeus was cornered. Or angered.

"Or perhaps after his majesty calms down."

It was had for her to say the words. Everything within Demeter burned to get into this fight and end this ridiculousness once and for all. The situation with Paris had gotten out of hand and she wanted no longer wanted to drag out his punishment. She wanted a quick end to it. She was tired of the games and the delays.

But if Zeus was truly angered, he'd take it out on everyone – even Hestia would not be immune to his anger.

What could have angered him so? The eternal war between him and Hera for supremacy had finally been resolved. They were united now as they never had been before and she knew her sister. This was the relationship she'd longed to have with Zeus. Hera would do nothing to tip the balance.

Yet, she was the only one who could ever affect him this badly.

A terrible thought occurred to her. Looking up a Poseidon, she saw that he was thinking the same thing she was. "Is Hera all right?"

Hermes tilted his head, "Depends on how you define all right. I've got to go. Several others to see and invite. Eat lite."

"If at all," Demeter muttered.

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Hera sat at her table before getting up to pace the room. Her fingers twitched as she wondered just how things went between Zeus and Athena. _Athena_…her husband's favored child and her ally in this war. Of all those upon Olympus, it was her reaction Hera feared after Ares'. Ares' rage was a flash of light, destructive, and quick to burn out.

Athena's was a slow build. The knife in the dark that one never saw, never suspected until it was too late. She would speak to a person pleasantly one moment, then be casually ripping their heart out the next. The warrior never hesitated when doing what she felt was right and woe be unto those who got in her way. Many was the fool who thought otherwise of her and ended up on the wrong side of her blade.

Walking out onto her balcony, she stared up at the gathered storm clouds and sighed. Zeus' mood had not improved after his meeting with Ares. It did not speak well of the discussion he had with Athena. Though she knew that she should dispel them, she couldn't bring herself to do so. In her mood, with nervousness and uncertainty swirling about inside, she'd end up doing more damage than healing.

The door behind her opened and her fingers twitched, her breath hitched, caught up in fear. _Was she to be summoned and publically punished_?

"It's me," Zeus said, seeming to realize what she was thinking.

Turning around, she studied his face, examining his eyes. His face. His posture. All of these things were closed before her but only for a moment. Walking towards her, he enfolded her in his arms with almost desperate strength. "Athena is not happy – but she knows where I stand. Firmly at your side," he elaborated, as if to allay any fears she may have had.

Hera nodded, closing her eyes. "Yes," she whispered. The single word filled with relief. She had not realized until that moment just how much had been riding upon his reaction to telling Athena the truth. Had he chosen to side with his daughter over his wife, Hera honestly did not know what she would've done. He was hers, completely.

His arms stiffened and he slowly pushed her back. "What?" There was a bit of doubt in his voice, trying to comprehend what she was saying.

"Yes," she repeated, her hand cupping his cheek. A smile of tremulous hope crossed her lips, hoping that he would read what she could not put into words. "You asked if I would marry you again. I'm saying yes."

"Why now?"

"Why not now?" She did, after all, have a right to have a few secrets of her own.

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_Author's Note : While I should've mentioned this before, the role they played did not appear until this point. So, it wasn't really necessary. But, since they are now here, it is. The Amazons of Penthesileia are inspired by those written of in "_**Warrior Women: An Archaeologist's Search for History's Hidden Heroines**" _by Jeannine Davis-Kimball and her co-author Mona Behan. It was also shown on PBS's "__**Secrets of the Dead**__"._

_While I will not be doing much to describe them culturally, these Amazons came from the Russian Steppes. Now, they are called by some Sarmatians, by others Scythians. There seems to be some debate as to which they were because of similarities in language and culture. And the ancient writers interchanged them._

_Also, some of my knowledge of Amazons comes from a book I read several years ago by Lyn Webster Wilde called "__**On the Trail of the Women Warriors: The Amazons in Myth and History**__." Unfortunately, my library no longer seems to possess a copy. Thus, I cannot put any of that data into play. They do not even have an electronic resource for it. Can you imagine?_


	26. Go But Don't Come Back

Cassandra quietly rose and pulled her robe more fully about her. Seeking her sandals for the ground chilled her feet, she wondered when she had removed them, wondered if Heracles had found the answer he sought. As she moved the tent flap aside, she breathed deep and sighed, feeling peaceful for the first time in a long time. The early morning light had yet to pierce the dark night. As she didn't want to cause further trouble for Heracles, she decided that she would seek Achilles out as soon as she made sure that Helen was all right.

Making sure the tent flap was secured; she snuck out and quietly made her way back to Menelaus' tent, peering into the gloomy room. A steady snoring sound greeted her ears and she entered on silent feet when she saw no one there. Walking to the back, she looked in and saw Helen wrapped up in his arms, held tightly. With her head tucked under his chin, she had an arm thrown across his chest as if to keep him there.

Or stake her claim.

It was hard to tell which of the two possibilities it could be.

As always with Helen, one could never be sure what her true motivations were. Smart Cassandra now knew she was and she could be highly dedicated when she set her mind to it. The woman was also kind, with a vast well of compassion running within her soul. A surprising amount if the priestess was being honest, though she did lack pity. Nevertheless, Helen also remained changeable and selfish - Helen would be the first to admit to that truth without that sense of self-consciousness others would if so pressed.

Helen was self-aware in a way that Cassandra envied.

For Cassandra, that made Helen a difficult person to hate and difficult to remain aloof from for the woman pushed past walls and doors as if they did not exist.

Feeling intrusive – not to mention more than a little embarrassed at the intimacy of the scene, she quickly backed out and made her way around sentries towards the beach. A cold breeze swept around her and she shivered, pulling into her cloak. Every step drew her one step closer to her unknown fate. Heavy hearted, she could smell the familiar scents of the land dissolve and blend into the salt of the sea.

This was the true scent of her homeland, that which she had been brought up knowing was a part of her soul. Homesickness filled her for the land which she loved and would soon be leaving. Turning around, she looked back at the city – at her Troy – and couldn't stop the tear that slid free. This was harder than she thought it would be for her soul cried against leaving. As a test of faith, she knew that she was right in doing so.

But she was still leaving, mayhap to never return.

And so, she turned around, taking everything in. The beach, the raceway, the abandoned temples, the high walls whose color had faded, the sight of the Temple she'd called home for so long, and the palace she was born in...all these things she committed to memory. Knowing it would never really be enough, she still tried to take it all in. This was Troy with its splendor and beauty, along with its flaws that she so loved.

It was a moment to hold close before letting go.

Yet a motion off to the side had her freezing in place, ending her contemplation. Holding the hood that much tighter, she glanced over to see who had broken her peace. This was the final moment, the time in which to change her mind had passed for she would be seen. A new life awaited her. Even with a heart thrumming in her chest so hard, she could barely draw in her breath, fear flowing in her veins, she knew it for what it was.

Time to bid everything except her faith good-bye. Fear's grip did not lessen as she recognized the man who emerged. Its hold tightened upon her. But she quickly gathered her courage and walked over to him. For good or ill, this was the man she was tying her life to. It was to him she was turning to and putting her trust in, so she had best make sure that they were on equal ground.

It was time to grow up and accept accountability for her choices.

To make sure that this life was how _she_ envisioned it.

"Lord Achilles," she greeted him and almost smiled in amusement when he jumped in surprise. "So, the great warrior can be startled. May be you have some human in you after all."

"Priestess Cassandra," he greeted her with a calm he did not feel. And yet, it felt right that it be the two of them, so he held out a hand in greeting. His eyes studied her intently, wondering at her temerity in coming to him without protection. Did she really have such confidence in her god that she felt safe walking around, out in broad daylight, in the enemy camp with only a hood for protection?

The woman had more gumption than he'd given her credit for. A smile quirked his lips as he realized something – this could work out better than he thought. After all, he'd never been found of hand holding and guiding others through what they needed to do. When he gave orders, he expected to be obeyed without question, not asked how to do something. "I have never denied it. Walk with me?"

Tilting her head for a moment in thought, she accepted his hand. It was easier to cross that bridge than she had thought it would be. For a few minutes, they moved along the shore, taking in the crisp air and the slow lightening of the sky. Her turmoil was momentarily forgotten as she realized that it was an auspicious way to begin a new life.

And she half-wondered what he thought of it. If he recognized the solemnity of the moment or if it was just another sunrise to him. Some part of her hoped that he did realize, it would make their partnership smoother. "Lord Apollo told me that he spoke with you last night. That you would be speaking with Heracles in the morning," she hesitated and then pushed ahead.

Again, she had to remind herself that it was her future and about time she took hold of it with both hands.

Perhaps that was the consequence of growing closer to Helen, though she knew that some would think she already had such courage. It took strength to go against her parents wishes and remain a priestess when she'd lost favor. Some of the other woman's determination to rule her own path had seeped into her. As much as she hated to turn her back upon her people, there was no life for her among them anymore.

In truth, she wondered if there ever had been. "There is no need for I will go with you wherever it is you wish to travel."

Stopping, he turned her to face him and pushed back the hood of her robe, grateful that his men had indulged a bit too much the night before. As they were trading stories, he had not held his men back as he had when there was fighting. Even though he was not actively participating, he'd long since resigned himself to allowing his men the right to fight or not if they so choose to do so.

It was a delicate balance that he had trouble walking and for the moment at least, he was grateful that he had an out from this war. Yet it was hinged by the fact that he had to figure out just what he was supposed to do now. There were matters that needed tending to dealing with Cassandra before he told them of her and that they would be leaving, allowing them the choice of whether to stay or to go. It would only be fair for he was turning a corner and could no longer order men to bend their wills to his – not that he'd done so in a while.

Studying her expression, he read her sincerity as well as her fear.

Fear he knew was directed at him and not this choice she made.

Of all the things one could say of her, Cassandra's faith in Apollo's plan for her was absolute. She never feared when she knew the god was involved. And it seemed that her faith was well placed for she should never have been able to come to him without that protection. To him, such faith had always been something to be mocked. While he revered the gods, he'd never had such faith in them. It was awe inspiring, if strange.

"I thank you for your trust, Priestess. And I give you my promise that while I draw breath into my body I will do my best to protect you. That I shall try to prevent any from harming you. This decision and new life is entirely in your hands," he said, wishing to reassure her more than anything. With a gentle touch, he held her chin so that they were staring into each other's eyes. "I will not require nor ask anything of you that you do not wish to give."

"And that will satisfy you?" she challenged him. While Apollo had said that Achilles had promised him this, she had not fully believed it. She still wasn't sure she believed it. It seemed too easy, to convenient that she had found such safety and respect in one she thought had none.

"I cannot say that I will be satisfied, Priestess. As much as I would like to say otherwise, I am not that noble. But this is not about me and what I want. What I think should be mine any longer," he pointed out. "This is about you and doing what you want to do now. What will make you the happiest, no matter what that is, that is a decision only you can make. I made Lord Apollo a promise – I will not cheat him when he has placed his trust in me."

She visibly winced at his words. Even knowing instinctively that he wasn't obliquely referring to her promise, it still felt like a condemnation to her. "And if I offer myself to you?" Without conscious thought, her body swayed towards him, seeking something from him that she did not understand.

Drawing in a breath, he shook his head in refusal. Such a simple move and yet…yet it was one of the hardest movements he'd ever made. Self-denial was new to him and he wasn't quite sure he liked it. "I would refuse for I don't want to be rewarded because you think you have to. If such a relationship develops between us, I want it to be something that we _**both**_ want. I don't want it for any other reason."

Her brows pinched together. "That is hardly the answer I was expecting of you."

"Cassandra? What are you doing out here?"

They both turned and saw Hector with Aeneas. Both men were unarmed.

"I could ask you the same thing," she commented almost drawing back into Achilles' sheltering presence. Almost but not quite, for she recognized that she had to stand on her own. Even if he was willing to help her carry her burdens, this was her life. If her choice was to be honored, it was because she stood on her own feet and made them listen to her. Believe that she had made this decision without coercion and that she had no regrets.

Hector took a few steps forward before stopping, "Achilles sent me a message last night."

Looking at him, she saw him nod. "Why?"

"I trust Lord Apollo to help us – but I also understand that I have to do my part. And that isn't just ensuring your safe removal from Troy, Priestess," he said.

"You and Helen both have the oddest ideas about the gods," she commented, shaking her head.

Ignoring her words for the moment, for he felt that they would have time to get to know one another and speak more of such things, he concentrated on the matter before him. It was something he both dreaded and looked forward too. "But I thought I asked you to come alone," he commented, turning to Hector. "I have come before you unarmed."

Hector acknowledged his words with a tight smile, staring at Cassandra. The betrayal he felt was clear in his eyes for while he'd thought his wife's words may be true, that he might see Helen here, he'd thought his sister had more devotion to their people to leave them so easily. "So have I," he pointed out.

"I didn't bring a warrior back-up," he retorted.

"If you think that I was just going to allow Hector to meet you, alone and in your camp, you are madder than I have seen you be. Andromache would have my head for that. Then I believe that she would come after you," Aeneas sharply said.

Achilles heaved a great sigh, acknowledging the truth of his words. "Fine. I well know of your wife's reputation. She is not the kind of woman I would willingly anger for she is quite fierce. Hector, I plan to leave today. No later than this evening. Priestess Cassandra has agreed to go with me. What I need is your word that you will not follow after us to return her to Troy."

Glancing down at her, he noticed her downcast eyes. "And your word that should you ever need help, you will summon me."

Her eyes flew to his, startled. Surprised. But the gratitude in them warmed him to the core. May be there was something to this self-denial thing after all, some reward to denying what one wanted in favor of another's needs and wants. Perhaps not, he cynically added, noting the fierce look on Hector's face - and the equally harsh one on Aeneas'.

"Why?" Aeneas suspiciously asked because it seemed that Hector would not.

Or could not.

After a long moment of silence, he returned his attention to the two men. His answer was simple for there was no need to be. Plain. But it spoke volumes of the man he was becoming – or perhaps had always been. A man that had never before had a chance to develop because of expectations. His own and the world's. "You are important to Priestess Cassandra."

This stunned Hector out of his shock. "What of Polyxena? Were your deeply expressed feelings for her a lie? When Cassandra no longer interests you, will you dump her?"

"What of Polyxena?" Achilles repeated softly. Thinking of the young woman, with her dark hair and brown eyes…her perfect figure…he clearly recalled feeling something for her. Though he could not say it was love – and had no intention of even trying to act as if it was – he also knew that she was not for him. "Your sister is, as all of your sisters are, beautiful. But, Hector, they are not here before me. I would never just leave Cassandra anywhere, to face danger alone – that's more your thing."

A hiss escaped him. His hand automatically went towards the weapon that was not by his side. "How dare you?" he demanded, hating the weak reply. For the first time, Hector would have preferred the cold feel of bronze in his hands.

"No," Achilles shook his head, seemingly unaffected by the motion and tone of voice. It was an illusion for he was on guard knowing Hector's character. The one thing he hadn't wanted was to become embroiled in a fight. But he knew that he had to make Hector see the truth. Cassandra's safety had been ignored by her family for far too long. He would not do the same and if that meant opening himself up to an attack then he would. "You left her alone to face the threats that would come to her because there are those who react negatively to her prophecies. You left her to fend for herself when you turned your back upon her because you couldn't bear to hear her words. Believe her or not, she is _**your sister**_.

"And it was your duty to protect her from harm. You may not have agreed with her decisions, may not have agreed with her words but you should not have turned your back upon her. By leaving her exposed to the malice of others, you failed in your duty.

"I will not be so negligent for I have been charged to protect her by the Lord Apollo." And here he paused. Turning, he stared into Cassandra's eyes. "Even if I had not been, I would still do my best to care for her because she has come to me in trust. It is a shame that she has to seek such protection from one who is not family."

Aeneas placed his hand on Hector's arm. As much as he hated to admit to it, he agreed with Achilles - at least, in this particular situation. There were things he'd heard from Helen when she'd confided in him, had seen with his own eyes. Cassandra had been severely punished by some for her words. Upon her back, whip marks remained from a severe beating she'd received when she'd informed a father that his son would not make it through the first battle.

A beating he'd never have known happened had he not come across her unconscious form, lying in a puddle of blood. To this day, he did not understand what had drawn him to Apollo's Temple for he usually went to his mother's Temple, only that he was grateful he had gone. There were so many other things that he couldn't tell Hector for fear of what the other man would do. What his reaction might be to finding out the truth about what happened to Cassandra.

Of all the sons of Priam, Hector had the greatest capacity for honorable behavior. He also had the strangest sense of what was right and wrong. His judgments were sometimes quickly made but he never went back when he thought that his position was just. It made him a hard man to work with and to be around for if you fell out of his favor, it was something that was difficult to regain.

"He's right," his words were soft.

Then his eyes hardened and he stared at the warrior. Achilles met his look calmly. Again untroubled by the accusation and the harshness that he knew that the other warrior had to see burning in his eyes. It was the kind of boldness he expected from one such as Achilles. "So, you are switching sides? How do we know that you won't switch back?"

"You don't," he replied calmly. "Any more than I have your guarantee that once we depart, you will not pursue us once peace is established here."

"And you ask no blood price? No slaves?" Hector pressed. A part of him wondered at this calm belief that peace would come. Peace that would not cost them their lives, contrary to what everyone thought. What knowledge did Achilles have that they lacked?

"I have need of none," he replied. A hand gently touched his, then became a grip that hardened painfully. Shocked by the action, he looked down at Cassandra. She wasn't looking at him though. Her eyes were far away, pale and rather sickly. Almost without thought, his arm went around her. He pushed past the Trojans and went to the rock Iolaus had sat on. With gentle pressure, he forced her to sit down. Kneeling beside her, he kept his arm around her in support.

A blood curdling scream escaped her lips, chilling him to the core.

"Cassandra, listen to me. You are safe to speak your words. Tell me what it is that you see." His orders were spoken in gentle tones. With this quiet voice, he hid his unease and fear.

He'd never heard such a sound in all his life, not even from the dying and wounded on the field of battle. To hear such a sound, coming from her…he wondered how she could bear it for he knew it must happen to her often.

"It's the Lord Ares…he's…there's anger. Fierce...it burns...like acid. Like a poison...filling the body...strangling the senses. May be it is for it burns so bad…" her words trailed off. The palms of her hands pressed against her eyelids, trying to force the sight back into her mind.

Trying to force it to go away, she scratched at the skin. Breaking it.

His hands pulled them away, not liking the sight of the blood on her face before pulling her into a loose armed embrace, trapping her hands between them. If she needed to hurt something to deal with the pain, it was better that it be him than herself. While he could hear Hector, hear Aeneas in the background, they didn't matter to him. All that mattered was the woman before him.

Her pain must be eased before anything else.

If they didn't like how he went about it, tough. She needed to be grounded and this was the only way he knew of to reassure her that the world outside her mind still existed. "It's all right, lady. I've got you safe. Can you see who is being poisoned? Is it you?"

Shaking.

She couldn't stop the restless shaking.

Or feeling the flames rise up, surrounding her, blinding her eyes, and choking her senses.

The heat suffocated her and she started to cough, leaning further into his arms. Struggling to breath against the rising smoke, the panic that clung to her. She couldn't see anything but flames and dark, billowing clouds around her. The heat made her dizzy.

"Not me," she mumbled at last into his neck.

"For right now, just breath deeply. Draw in air slowly and let it out again," he ordered. His hands rubbed a soothing pattern into her skin, feeling her relax against him even more. Idly he wondered, how did the woman manage to keep her skin so soft under these extreme conditions?

It took more strength and presence of mind to swallow back the desire rising within than he'd thought he had. But he was not totally ignorant of the truth. There were two men behind him who would be more than willing to kill him should he take advantage of the situation before him.

And he had promised her that he would do no such thing to her.

Cassandra could feel arms around her.

Could hear the steady voice speaking to her – but it didn't fully penetrate the fog of terror that filled her mind. It did not seem real yet. This feeling...this feeling of a supportive person beside her, keeping her safe. Though the heart beat steadily under her hand, screams of blood lust and revenge echoed in her mind, drowning the warmth.

It was all she could do to remain focused. To answer the questions and follow the orders given in such a calm, authoritative voice.

"Rest easy," the voice said. "I've got you safe. And while I cannot promise that no harm will come to you again, I can vow to be there for you every time."

It seemed to be the right words for she finally stopped shaking.

"The mighty Achilles has a heart that is not fully tainted by the lust for blood and battle. How very disappointing to find that the greatest warrior is such a weakling," a woman's voice taunted.

Glancing up, he saw a woman in indeterminate age, casually sharpening a sword above them. Her blue eyes were slanted – rather small – but he could tell from her posture and attitude that no detail would escape her. Along the right side of her face, a scar ran from ear to just under her chin. That and she had some kind of inked design. Dark hair cut as short as possible sharpened her chin and high cheekbones, making her appear harsh.

Unyielding.

"Is it weak to show compassion? If so, I will gladly be weak for only a fool has no heart. And only cowards fear to show their emotions." It was an answer tightly spoken, covering his anger at being so labeled. The word curled unpleasantly within him. Hatred for the woman above them filled him. "A warrior is defined by the purity of his emotions."

She ignored him, stung by the truthful words he spoke. They were words she'd heard before, from others that she respected – even if she found the concept one that was unworthy of contemplation. "And you, the mighty Aeneas and the honorable Prince Hector, dealing with him. If this is how you conduct war, it is no wonder this feeble army is still camped around you. Do you even know what bronze _**swords**_ are used for?"

Hector expelled a sharp breath. He should've known that she would have followed after him. His mother had asked her to watch over him, fearing that he would unwisely answer the letter. That he would not send another in his place. "Penthesileia. I should've known for only you would come here despite being asked not interfere. Enyo's pet project. The pretender Queen of the Amazon Nation."

"There is no nation as you conceive such a concept, not that I expect you to understand what I speak of. There is the woman who follows the sword and the man who is wise enough to let her. Not that understanding such a concept is within you for your mind is to small realize the value of such things."

Standing up, Achilles could see that she was a tall woman. Wiry strength, toughened by years in the saddle, stalked past him. He was surprised that she did not have the swagger of a horse rider. There was elegance and grace in the way she moved and spoke. A contradiction, he thought and wondered what Heracles would think of her.

"And do not speak her name so lightly. Lady Enyo is one to be respected for only the Queen Hera passes her in excellence and majesty."

"I'm surprised that you would dare to use both their names in a single sentence. The High Queen will not soon forgive that slight," Aeneas commented, unnerved by the woman. It wasn't that he didn't have experience with female warriors. Far from it. He'd learned from many. And only a great fool would deny that everyone of the goddesses were powerful fighters, though Athena surpassed them all.

There was just something about this toughened woman that unnerved him.

"So I dare to speak of that which others do not," she shrugged. "Your opinion means little to me." A sharp turn had her suddenly by Achilles' side. One of her hands touched Cassandra's head, noting with amused detachment the sudden stiffening of his body. "Be at ease, I mean _her_ no harm. You, on the other hand, you are a different matter."

Achilles couldn't rise to meet her on an even playing field, not with the woman in his arms still needing his strength. But he couldn't ignore Penthesileia's words either. He wondered just what the priestess thought of this moment. Wondered if she was even cognizant enough to realize that her fate was being decided upon at that moment by someone none of them considered.

"What business is it of yours what happens to her?"

"Do you honestly expect me to believe that Lord Apollo gave his beloved Priestess to _you_? His enemy in this fight?"

His lips tightened, "I have said that he has done so."

"Exactly," she sneered. "_You_ have said. And from what I understand, it is you who have prolonged this war because of a slight against you. Why should any of us give any credence to your claims? I have seen little in your past actions to believe that you are capable of such selflessness and honor."

"While you seem to have little respect for the gods, I would never use them so lightly. Especially one with the reputation of Lord Apollo."

"Oh, I think you'd dare much to get what you desire, Achilles," she smirked. "You may think you are fooling us with this mock reverence, but I think I know you better. I will not deny that you respect the gods. But I do not believe for one moment that you have any true fear of them.

"One cannot lie to another warrior," she flatly added. It was galling to think that she had something in common with this man but it was truth.

She was warrior enough to admit it.

"ENOUGH!" Cassandra's own voice snapped, cracking in the still air. She gently but firmly pushed him away and stood, facing the warrior woman. "My father called you here to be slaughtered before the blade of the Achaeans. I know this and know that you do not believe me.

"For that I am deeply sorry," she paused, "And admit that I bear the fault in that."

"Priestess Cassandra," Penthesileia started, unsure of her words. What did one say to a prophetess and seer who said such things with such resignation?

"Let me finish," she ordered, almost gratified to see the woman pale. "This is _my_ fate that is being decided. Lord Apollo has graciously given me to Achilles' hand to be protected from slavery and worse at the hands of these very warriors. I have chosen - _for myself_ - to go with him. It is not your right nor your place to interfere in what the gods have asked.

"Do not think that I am not ungrateful for your words, but I do not wish to remain when I know that the end for me is rape and death," she finished.

"You cannot know that," she scoffed. Yet there was some doubt in her voice, something that spoke of a lessening of the power of Apollo's curse upon Cassandra that allowed them to really hear her. Hear and understand what she was saying, that in time she would be believed by all who heard her. That it would no longer be the curse of the god that prevented them from believing her but man's own inability to accept the painful truth.

"I only know what I have seen - and a life cut short is what will be if I stay. My brother Hector give us what we need and let us depart. I will _not_ remain and become chattel," Cassandra said, not hearing the tone. Not understanding herself that not only was her life's path altering but that the curse was lifting. "Only to die for a crime I did not commit."

She was shaking with emotion, everything was still too much. Still to _there_ for her body to do anything else. There was a hope that her body was not betraying her weakness, though she had little belief in that. Those who stood around her were far to seasoned to miss anything. A movement behind her and she saw Achilles' aborted move, yet he stood ready to offer her a hand should she ask for it.

About her, she could still feel the sheltering warmth of his arms. The reassuring strength of his body, sharing her burdens. Helping her bear them...it was so tempting to just lean back against him once more. To let him fight this battle for her, to allow another to be her strength, she took in a deep, steadying breath because she recognized the truth. She had to face them standing on her own two feet.

If she did not, there would forever be doubt in their minds about this being her choice.

Hector stared at her, trying to see Cassandra.

Just Cassandra.

But it was difficult to focus solely on her with the protective shadow of Achilles. The man had a definite presence that seemed to envelop her into his sphere, making her a part of him without subtracting who she was. Without remembering how the man had gently shielded her from the pain of her vision. Somehow he had known what to do for her when no one else, save Helenus and Helen, ever did.

Beyond that image was the Amazon Queen.

The defensive posture of Penthesileia, ready to take out the man with or without Hector's approval, stood in stark contrast to all those in Troy. She may not have believed Cassandra either but she was willing to fight the warrior that no one else wanted to touch to protect his sister. The woman who had seemed to know what to say and do to get a more honest reaction out of the Achaean than they had. While he was not grateful for her presence, he was grateful for the result.

But Hector knew it came down to one thing - Cassandra and what she wanted.

"Sister, are you sure about this?"

A small smile quirked her lips, hearing what he was not capable of saying. "Is anyone ever sure about anything?" she cryptically asked. "Hector, I have always known what my path was to be. From what seems to be the moment of my birth, I've known that to serve Lord Apollo is my destiny. Now, he has called me to serve in another way. Yes, I am certain that this is what I want and need to do."

Closing his eyes, he released a heavy sigh. She was right. Of all the people he knew, Cassandra had always been focused, determined. Not once had she ever wavered in her conviction. If she had been born a man, there was no doubt that she would be one of the greatest strengths they had in their arsenal. "Then go - but do not come back, Achilles. I fear if you do, I will not be able to let my sister go again."

Achilles studied him. "Don't give me a reason to."

End, Part 26


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